


Dungeons are Strange

by DevinTowerwood



Category: D&D - Fandom, Life Is Strange, Pathfinder
Genre: Demons, F/F, F/M, Fantasy AU, Multi, Other, Polyamory, alternate gender universe, bigender!Victoria Chase, lovecraft, tw blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:42:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4868768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevinTowerwood/pseuds/DevinTowerwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arcadia is a small village on the edge of the world. Long ago, a war amongst gods left a great wound in the flesh of the world, from which demons eternally pour. A small band of heroes work together to keep this threat contained. When a prophecy reveals the coming of a great evil, however, casual demon slaying, love affairs, and politics turns into a blood bath. Also, Mari and Stacy of Geek Remix make an appearance because I say so. Pathfinder universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Weary Traveler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warren Graham is very tired, and then he is very confused.

##  _To be a Man is to serve the gods. To be a woman is to serve the world._

The path was long and far from uniform. Close to the cities it had been kind and interesting - neat cobblestone paths and bridges crossed in every direction with convenient signs laid out every few hundred feet. But out here, leagues from civilization, with no more path than a well-trodden lack of vegetation maybe seven feet wide, it was rare that any guidance found its way to you.

So far out, nature took on a different sort of uniformity - not in its landscape or in its color, but in its texture. Waves of grain rippled in the sturdy breeze, covering the land in pale color where patches of flowers or small trees were unable to gather resources for their own survival. It was simple, and repetitive, sweeping out for miles in every direction. And so, too, did the road just seem to continue - for the past two nights, the Traveler had found themself laying a bedroll down into the fields of grain, unable to escape the wind but also untouched by the chill.

The traveler’s steps were slow but purposeful and unwavering, meandering from rolling hill to shallow valley. Upon their back sat a heavy, waterproof pack, and numerous vials jangled along their belt, practically glowing in the variety of their contents. A single bone scrollcase sat on their right hip, mounted on a hook on the side of the belt. Heavy brown hair lay plastered over their forehead, sweat dried rapidly in the breeze, mostly tucked inside a loose, wide-brimmed hat to evade the endless light of the sun when no other protection was to be found.

It was in this monotony that a figure became visible in the distance, nothing more than a vague silhouette as sunset approached. It was perfectly regular to see other people along the road, dispersed as they might be, traveling in small groups, so this concerned the traveler little. It may have been as much as five minutes before something truly changed to upset the sensory balance in the moment.

It came in the form of a smell. A stench might be the right word - in their first breath, the traveler detected it just because it was unusual, but when they investigated further, they found it overwhelming and recoiled, but found no relief, for they could not see its source.

So focused on the smell were they that it wasn’t until they came into full view that the Traveler recognized the source - quick-moving gray masses of flesh darting through the wheat, aiming straight towards the startled traveler. While the traveler may have thought their reflexes lightning-quick, they had no more than produced a dagger before the heaps of gray were upon them, a heavy mound of flesh crushing their chest.

They stared up at the beast - a gray-skinned, hairless beast with bulging eyes and a huge mouth, whose skin reeked of decay and whose breath was something previously unimaginable. As the powerful claws of the creature began to slash against the traveler’s chest, they thought themselves dead.

But that’s when they heard the running. It came with tremendous force that seemed to startle the crowd of beasts that had ambushed the traveler much as they themselves had started the little human in the road - and then, the one on their chest found itself in a rather gruesome condition. They were split in half - the traveler’s body became paralyzed in fear as they saw the entirety of the torso of the gray-skinned creature ripped off of the legs that held them down, a gigantic blade that flashed in front of their eyes like a shooting star bringing forth the blow.

Then again, the fear may have been from the gush of blood that poured out from the lower half of the body, immediately rushing over the exposed chain armor on the traveler’s chest.

The creatures reacted appropriately - they immediately turned to disappear back into the fields of grain, but few were successful. The blade that flashed swung again, ripping right through two more of the horrible beasts and spraying the ground with blood. There was no further resistance, and the final creature fled.

Drenched as they were in blood, it took the traveler a moment to recognize anything about the person that stood above them - the first detail that they noticed was the arm. It was made of steel, or what looked like steel, finely polished but with wires and valves sticking out along its length, protected by a heavy plate along the exterior of the forearm. The hand itself was a collection of small, smooth plates, creating a strange, artistic likeness of a true human hand.

The traveler reached up to grasp the hand, and was pulled onto their feet with such ease that it amazed them. Blood began to drip down their body - that which didn’t manage to soak into their clothes.

“You’re awfully far out of the cities to be so awfully equipped, sir. What’s your name?” The traveler found themself very close to a peculiar woman. She stood much higher than him, perhaps six feet and three inches, give or take an inch, and her hair was cut shorter than his as well, awkwardly hanging around her ears. Every strand of her hair was dyed a vibrant blue color that the traveler had never seen outside of paintings in temples of Shelyn. Despite her comment, she wore no armor herself, only a simple shirt and vest, both sleeveless, which revealed the full extent of her mechanical arm nearly up to her shoulder. Her other arm was even more exquisitely detailed - a long, flowing set of beautiful images all layered together were tattoo’d down the entirety of it, containing the same vibrant blue of her hair in the form of a brilliant butterfly as well as a deep red skull in the focal point of the whole piece. There were far too many details and colors to process all at once, but those stuck out to him in particular.

Although, so did one other detail - dripping in thick blood sat a massive blade over the woman’s shoulder. The blade was so wide that the wanderer had no word by which to categorize the weapon - it was further across than his hand fully extended, and the sword in total was likely as long as his entire body. Somehow, the blood on it simply seemed to mold thinly over a long, flowing script that ran along the edges of the blade, not obscuring it in the slightest.

“Warren. Warren Graham,” he responded, breaking the grasp of the massive woman in front of him, who lowered her metal arm back down to her side, her eyes tracing the trail of the creature who escaped through the field.

Then, her eyes turned back towards him. They were a bright, remarkable blue. “I’m Chloe Price,” she responded, and raised her unoccupied arm to wipe a streak of blood from her neck.

She looked him up and down for a moment before he asked, looking at the dismembered corpses surrounding him, “What were those things? I’m not familiar with them.”

She nodded down at them, “Those were dretches - demons. They’re all over these parts, as you ought to know. What are you doing so close to the Precipice, stranger?” She seemed to grow tired of hefting her massive blade over her shoulder, so she swung it in front of her, burrowing it into the ground. It occurred to Warren that it was completely nonsensical that she could even wield it - it had to weigh close to sixty pounds at the least!

He stared off over the hills for a moment. His voice was quiet, “Am I really that close? I had no idea I had made it so far.” His voice was a mixture of relief and hesitance.

She shrugged briefly before responding, “You’re about a mile out of Arcadia, your last stop before the edge of the world. You are a Man, aren’t you - what brings you so far?”

Warren became acutely aware of the mask necklace he wore around his neck, grooved down the middle to show that the mask was split in half. “I am . . . or was a Man. I thought I could find the peace I need to be a man in someplace so remote.”

A large smirk crossed the blue-haired woman’s face as she placed her hands on her hips. Somehow, this gesture only accentuated her muscularity, the mass of which he had never seen outside of a Man of Irori in all of his life, but no other quality of her spoke to the sort of rigid dedication that those Men lived in. “Oh, well, it sure is remote, but I can hardly promise it’s peaceful or quiet. Come on, if that’s where you mean to go, I can at least get you there alive.”

The town was tiny. This may be exactly what you would expect for a thorp just minutes away from Nowhere, but it sort of surprised Warren that a woman with an arm as technologically advanced as Chloe possessed could live in such a small area where he’d be lucky to find a doctor, let alone an engineer.

The duo stopped in front of what looked to be one of the largest buildings in town - a long, wooden structure with exterior supports and a patio, as well as a sign that read The Lady’s Luck, also containing a mug of ale sitting atop a pile of gold coins.

“This is the place for you. Tell the barkeep I brought you here and that I’m going to see her husband for a wash.” She indicated to her clothes, which were bloodstained, if not to the same degree that Warren’s were. Somehow, the blade that had been drenched in Dretch blood was now completely clean and seemed to shine in the light of twilight, despite the fact that Chloe had done nothing to clean it.

And there she left him in front of the door of the inn. A little surprised at the conditions he found himself in - less so the chill of blood-wet and moreso the being escorted into town by a massive woman - Warren made his way inside.

While Warren would hardly call the tavern filled, it was unusually occupied for a town with so few buildings. If he considered the door he entered from to be in the south center of the room, the northwest eighth of the tavern was dominated by a long bar which led back into what he could only assume was a kitchen. Almost all of the remaining tavern was filled with tables of various shapes and sizes, from those only suitable at most for two people to one long table meant for at least ten. On the north wall just east of center was a small flight of stairs that led to a depressed door.

At the bar sat four women thoroughly invested in their meal and drink. In the southwest corner sat a woman in out-of-place robes that seemed oddly bulky, as if wrapped around a firmer, more shaped armor or suit. Southeast of the cellar door (the one with the stairs leading down to it) on a couple-table sat a Man and a woman, both red-brown skinned, sitting across from each other. The Man was clearly identifiable by the holy symbol around his neck, that of Abadar, god of commerce, as well as his clothes, which were of significantly better make than all else in the tavern. On the far east wall around a table that could easily fit six sat three women - one tall and with long, brown hair pulled back, another with light brown hair pulled into a bun on the side of her face, and the last much larger than the others, with dark brown hair and a wide brow.

Among all of these people moved a young woman with light blonde hair, shorter than everyone Warren had seen in this town yet, which sat down below her shoulders, serving drinks and wiping down tables. Behind the bar, making conversation with the four women was a person of ambiguous gender, which was not something that Warren had encountered often - his confusion came from their position as a barkeep, but the fact that they had a necklace with a Cross of Sarenrae around their neck. Traditionally, only Men of Cayden Cailean tended to taverns and other traditionally Woman-associated professions among the laypeople. However, he remembered Chloe’s words from earlier - to mention to the barkeep about her husband. A Woman, then.

The woman with the bun in her hair raised her hand within seconds of Warren entering, and flagged him over, seemingly unfazed by the sight of all of the blood on him. Nobody had even given him a weird look for it on the way into town.

Uneasy and unguided, Warren made his way over to the three women around the large table. “Sit,” said the woman with a bun, and he did just that.

“I’m Juliet Watson, newcomer, and this is Dana Ward and Zachary Riggins. From your symbol I take it you’re a Man of Nethys, right? What’s your name?” She was quick with introductions and even quicker to ask questions. It was efficient to the point of nearly being rude, but Warren was aware that she had said everything perfectly politely, just . . . so quickly.

Warren nodded, though. “My name’s Warren Graham, and yeah, I’m a Man of Nethys.” His reply was both slower and much shorter, rather aware that in few occasions had he been in a social context with so many Women.

She nodded right back, as if to assure him. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Warren. What brings you all the way out to Arcadia? It is hardly a place a Man can do much work.”

He shrugged, as if that were a defense, and then elaborated, “I think the remoteness will do just fine for my work - I’m looking to understand the mysteries and nature of the world around us, as well as the Worldwound. I thought I could keep my studies unbiased far away from other Men.”

Dana cracked a smile in response to that, and finally input something, “Oh, I wouldn’t count on that - Garett, the barkeep’s husband, Linda, Man of Sarenrae, has a looooot of opinions and biases to share, and I’m sure you’ll hear them as soon as she hears a new Man is in town.”

He gave a bit of a shy smile back, a little overburdened by all of the new names and faces. Nevertheless, Juliet seemed determined to burden him further. “Here, newbie, you’re going to need to know people’s names - we really like it if you keep everyone’s names straight around here. There, over at the bar: that’s Justin, Trevor, Greg, and Lionel - those Women work with Michelle, there across from that man of Abadar you see, as local spell casters and farmers. They’re a little weird, so you don’t have to worry if you forget their names. The Man you see across from Michelle is Ray Wells, effective mayor of the town. Over in the corner there, waiting for her companion Chloe, is Maxine Caulfield - keeper of the plains, keeper of order and such bullshit. She’s a druid, so she mostly keeps to herself. Walking around you can see Katrina, Linda and Garett’s daughter and barmaid. Not present are their other two daughters, Kate and Courtney, with a C, not a K. Courtney mostly works in the tavern and Kate mostly works in the temple, but Kate hasn’t taken any vows of Manhood yet. Just keep in mind we might be switching to ‘He’ any day now.”

Wow, that was a lot of information. But, for some reason, Warren had the brilliant idea of asking for more: “And who are you three?”

Juliet seemed overjoyed at this question. “Dana here is the local midwife as well as the local practitioner of witchcraft - I know you’re not fond of that up here in the cities but down here where doctors are rarely available or competent, they’re a gods-send. Zachary works for the city guard under David Madsen - they and a handful of others like Chloe and Max keep the city clear of demons and the like from beyond the Precipice. She’s also my loving girlfriend. Lastly, I, Miss Juliet Watson, am currently unemployed.”

That was an anticlimax.

But Juliet was quick to pick up the deadpan and continue talking, “Well, officially. Unofficially I’m a message runner, courier, and downright harpy - not that anyone minds too much, we’re all gossips here. Now, I know what you’re thinking - if I’m not helpful, why haven’t I been sent back to the cities? And that’s where you underestimate the spread of information, my friend - I am singlehandedly the greatest media medium this village has to offer, and even if Wells complains, he’s not going to do shit to me. Don’t tell him I said that.”

She abruptly stopped talking as Garett arrived at their table, eager to greet the bloodstained new arrival. “Well, hello there, traveler! Have you made it to my inn by mistake or necessity? I hope that blood isn’t yours?”

Warren looked up at the stout, hardy-faced woman as she laughed at her own quip - because, obviously, that amount of blood couldn’t be Warren’s and he still be able to walk his way into the inn. Her face was not like those of many who were considered born to be men but who instead chose to become women - it was tough and lined, much like many Men of Torag (god of the forge) or Erastil (god of the hunt).

Warren shook his head nonetheless. “No, um, a warrior by the name of Chloe Price rescued me from a pack of . . . Dretch I think they were called? Small but heavy gray-skinned creatures? She . . . uh, made a  bit of a mess with her sword. She said she was going to see your husband to get a wash. Your husband is a Man of Sarenrae, right?”

Garett nodded in response, “Yes, yes he is, and I was destined to be for much of my life. I may have turned my back on manhood but I’ve always stayed devoted to our goddess - I don’t suppose Linda’d have married me otherwise. And it’s good that you met old Chloe if you got attacked by those nasty things - they tear many people apart before they ever make it to town.”

Warren wished he’d known that before he ever set out for Arcadia. However, he didn’t really get a chance to respond as yet another figure was approaching the table now - the Man of Abadar, Mayor Wells. “Good day, brother,” the tall man addressed Warren, which sort of made him blush - a man as old as Wells addressing him as an equal was a rather uncomfortable experience; “And welcome to Arcadia. My name is Rae Wells, and as Juliet has likely told you already, I’m much the father of this town, keeping order in a town frequently besieged by the likes of demons and other beasts from beyond the worldwound.”

Mayor Wells offered out his hand, and Warren stood before grasping it to shake. “Hello there, sir, I’m Warren Graham, Man of Nethys. Thank you for your welcome. I’ve come here to study the nature of our world, although I had no idea how chaotic it was so close to the Precipice. I hope my work is of no bother to you.”

Mayor Wells shook his head, smiling, although the smile seemed awfully fake. “No, no, no worries such as that - that is fine Man’s work. I know the reputation of Men of Nethys but I trust you are not so . . . unpredictable as all of that. I trust you’ll find this a suitable place for your work, brother Graham.”

As Wells and Garett dispersed and Zachary, Juliet, and Dana returned to their chatter, one thing became very clear to Warren. This town was full of characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paladin - Holy Warrior, granted supernatural powers by a specific god or all gods of a specific idea. Paladins are exclusively good, but there are inversions of them that are explicitly bad.  
> Druid - Usually belonging to a strict order, druids are among the select few who have direct access to “portfolios” of magic in given areas, often pertaining to a type of terrain or animal. They access these portfolios without the direct aid of a deity, often receiving directly from the universe itself. They are bound to nature’s laws, and, should they lose their harmony with the natural order, lose all access to magic.  
> Abyss - The origin and homeland of all demons  
> Demon - A creature who is the physical incarnation of cursed souls who shared common traits, such as wrath, lust, bloodthirst, pride, greed, etc  
> Hell - A strictly-ordered land formed into a tight hierarchy on a separate plane of existence from the Material Plane, where humans live. It is ruled by Asmodeus, the King, then by several Princes, then by Dukes, and so forth.  
> Devil - A creature of hell.


	2. The Tattoo'd Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe Price maintains a careful routine to keep the town of Arcadia safe. However, she is disturbed to hear what the local shaman has to say to her. She meets several newcomers.

##  _Long ago, the Enemy of the Gods, the Destroyer of All, Rovagug came to the World of Gods. He sought to destroy all, and the Gods were afraid._

Chloe was soaked clean through to the bone, which was a good description of how almost every day ended for her. She stood in what would could easiest be described as a stall on the side of the church of Sarenrae while every few seconds a massive burst of water was generated above her head out of nowhere, cold water hitting her with temporary tremendous force. Some of the water was caught in buckets all around the stall, which was maybe five feet long and three feet wide.

Virtually every day she stood in this stall just after sundown, following the prayer of the sunset in the church, wiping her body with soap as these blasts of water fell on her, generated by the magic of Linda, the Man of Sarenrae. Black and red blood built up on her body from her patrol of Arcadia and the surrounding area as the never-ending stream of creatures from beyond the Precipice every day, and there simply was not a clean supply of water that would not be tainted by this demonic blood except that it be spontaneously generated by magic.  
It was several days after Warren Graham had arrived in town, and days had not changed for Chloe. Every day she stalked the beasts of the Abyss, every day they bled on her for it. While their blood washed off, the marks of their presence never did. Beyond what Warren had seen of her, tattoos of an unintelligible script wrapped all around Chloe’s torso in a spiral, blessing her just as much as they cursed her. While the tattoos that draped her arm were nothing more than symbols of her quest, the tattoos that snaked around her body  _were_  her quest - a cry out for the forces of the universe to grant her the power to slay the endless droves from beyond this plane of existence. The tattoos were beautiful in a way, like an eternal dress or irremovable armor, but she wished she didn’t have to spend so much time looking at them every day as she removed this grime.

When she was thoroughly wet and the buckets full, Chloe called to Linda to stop the spellcasting - she had plenty of water to work with. Linda gave a bit of a grunt as he walked off, not interested in sticking around longer than necessary. While he was thankful for the service Chloe gave to the town, he never claimed to like her like his wife, Garett, did.

When there was nothing left on her but water and the tattoos, Chloe dumped the remaining water out onto the ground, then opened up the stall and stepped out into the town. A single towel sat on a towel just outside the stall, and Chloe set to drying herself. The second night Warren had been in town, he’d walked by the church at this time and been promptly embarrassed to find Chloe standing, naked, in full view as she dressed herself, but everyone else in town was so used to the routine they rarely seemed to take notice. She was methodical and unchanging, so they didn’t try to change her.   
She always started by attaching her right arm, taking a moment to flex it and test its flexibility, making sure nothing had damaged it, and glad that it never needed any cleaning, as it cleaned itself, just as her sword did. Then came her clothes if nobody had nicked them, which Justin had done on multiple occasions in the brief interlude from when Linda walked back into the church and Chloe stepped out of the shower. Then, she’d pull out her sword from the earth, often dug a feet or deeper into it as it was, and drag herself where she was needed - usually to see Maxine and review the day.

Today was not one of those days where Chloe went back to the Lady’s Luck to see Maxine, however. She was frustrated by the lack of a significant demon presence, or any other real problem, that had been going on around here for weeks. Things had been essentially peaceful for a duration that rarely occurred, and it made her nervous. And so, she thought it was time to go see Rachel.

* * *

 

Perhaps a mile out of town, with no convenient road to guide them, the townsfolk of Arcadia could travel to meet the mysterious shaman who guided them through many, many a crisis. Although many thought her gender strange - that the gods could communicate to her and yet she be not a Man - she was treated with a sort of reverence in the community for her wisdom as well as the visions that held sway over even Mayor Wells. This shaman lived in no more than a dome-shaped hut seemingly built without flaw from the very earth. The material could more accurately be called adobe-like, but it was a whole, unbroken building, perhaps fifteen feet wide a number of paces from a dead, but formerly great white tree near the top of the numerous hills of this land.

The door to the hut was sunk into the ground, with a crude stair allowing a visitor entry to the sunken hut. Most people who came to see her would leave a gift on this stair - an animal for sacrifice, a finely wrought candlestick, even treat of some kind with an accompanying candle, then seek to see her the following night. But there was no such ceremony for Chloe. As she stood on the very stair, a voice from within the hut shouted, “Come on in, Chloe.” She always knew Chloe was coming, and had not expected or asked anything of Chloe in a long time.

Chloe opened up the door and was unsurprised to find it filled with a sweltering heat. A large fire sat in the center of the hut, smoke flowing out of a small hole in the ceiling, but, nevertheless, smoke still hovered in the room. Chloe descended the two additional steps onto the floor of the hut and sat down, cross-legged, staring into the flame and beyond, where two other figures sat. The first was that of a woman with sandy-blonde hair draped in heavy robes, as if she could not feel the intensity of the flames in front of her. She sat on a rug of her own and stared back at Chloe as the brightness of the flames did not bother her. Her eyes were pale and bright and shined with the light of the flames, characteristic of her cursed blindness. Beside her lay a large dog, its head on its crossed paws.

The entire room was densely decorated, almost every surface covered in candles as well as an inconsistent variety of dishes, all composed of gifts from occupants of Arcadia and beyond. So too did many symbols hang from the ceiling above Chloe’s head, although none more prominently than the spiraled bone of[ Pharasma](http://pathfinder.wikia.com/wiki/Pharasma) and the Red Star of [Asmodeus](http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/pathfinder/images/a/ae/Asmodeus_holy_symbol.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20081006161611). 

“Hey there, Rachel. I’m back.” Despite the noise created by the fire, Chloe didn’t bother to project her voice far - there was nothing so minute within the radius of this hut that Rachel could not hear.

“So you are,” Rachel said, and smiled slowly. “Welcome back. You’re concerned that you haven’t been forced to come to me, aren’t you?”

Chloe nodded in response, useless as it might be, it was just a reflex. Then she said, “Yes . . . the Abyss is not filled with planners and schemers. Arcadia is not used to periods of peace - nor should it be. I’m worried about what might be coming. I don’t know what to expect.”

This did not seem to dim the smile of the young woman across from Chloe. “What will come will come soon enough, Chloe Price. But before that you’re going to be challenged unlike you ever have. A rival approaches Arcadia.”

This took Chloe a little aback. Although Chloe’s status in Arcadia was a little strange, she couldn’t imagine anybody trying to uproot her in any way. “What do you mean? Who would want to take my position in one of the worst jobs imaginable?”

The oracle took a moment to think about this, but her reply was nevertheless clear, “One who would use it for fame, and for glory. That you approach your position with sobriety is one thing, but many would take demon slaying to be glorious, like our god Cayden Cailean before his ascension.”

This puzzled Chloe a little. Sure, she wasn’t the only demonslayer in the world, but she wouldn’t see why anyone would try to uproot her all the same - even if they wanted fame, it’s not like she was detracting from that. Nevertheless, Rachel seemed to predict Chloe’s thoughts.  
“Fame and sharing do not go well together. To be the lone hero is much greater than to be a contributor.”

Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, that’s ridiculous - we all have to deal with the Worldwound, nobody will try and replace me if they stand on the Precipice. There are plenty of demons to go around.”

Nevertheless, Rachel’s smile never failed. Her dog seemed to notice Chloe’s excitement, though, and walked over to Chloe, settling down right next to her. She began to stroke his head gently with her left hand, crooning to him softly,  _‘Hey there Frank - how are you today? How are you?’_

Rachel finally spoke, “You think better of people than they deserve, Chloe Price.”

* * *

 

The very next day, Chloe stepped out of the wash stall again and began to fit her mechanical arm on. However, there was something distinctly different about the scene today. Today, there were three tall warhorses moving in a line down the street alongside the church of Sarenrae. Atop them sat two women cloaked in a variety of exotic pieces of dress, armor, and weapons. Leading the pack of them sat what Chloe could only assume was a man, for their cloak bore the [Butterfly of Desna](http://karzoug.info/srd/deities/images/Desna.gif), their warhorse had a distinct and finely crafted [Cold Iron Mug of Cayden Cailean](http://karzoug.info/srd/deities/images/Cayden.gif), and they wore a large[ Trinity of Blades](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/pathfinder/images/b/b6/Calistria_holy_symbol.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20081006202955) of Calistria around their neck. Nevertheless, the three figures on horses all wore masks, wide and decorated, completely out of place this far from the city. While much of their dress was associated with the wealth of women in the upper echelons of the cities, there were also military pieces, such as fine rapiers on each person’s hip.

The person adorned in many holy symbols continued along, but their face turned along with the two women’s to look at Chloe where she stood. While the two masked women quickly found the decency to look away, the person on the front steed’s eyes lingered for a long moment, making Chloe surprisingly uncomfortable. She slowly moved her arms to hide her tattoos and body, but as she did, the figure finally looked away and continued on.

* * *

 

Perhaps minutes later, as Chloe found her way into the  ** _Lady’s Luck_** , blue hair still wet but all pushed back behind her ears and down her neck. Within, though, she saw a continuation of the unfamiliar sights. The two women and their polydeific companion sat around a four-person table, and they turned to look as Chloe entered. Nevertheless, she made an effort to ignore them and turned to the corner of the tavern, where she sat down at a couple’s table with Maxine.  
She was quick to indicate towards the three newcomers, “Who are these three, do you know?”

Max shook her head, then replied, “Nothing, really, except that that isn’t a man, as we were quick to be informed,” she gestured to the person covered in holy symbols. “They’re a paladin.”

Chloe turned around nearly 180 degrees to peer at the masked individual again. Their hair was cropped short and smooth, a bright blonde color that hung just above their ears. Only the lowest tufts of their hair were caught by the band of the mask on their face.  
Chloe had never seen a paladin - someone sworn both to the gods as well as the people of the world. They were the only individuals other than children who were regarded without gender, but ultimately that’s not what they were. As she understood it, they took vows of both Manhood and Womanhood, bound to the gods just as they were their fellow people. They were rarely even bound to a single god - from the look of things, this paladin served at least three with a relatively concentrated ideology - freedom. Freedom, but not necessarily liberation - there was a selfishness implied by the symbol of Calistria, goddess of spite.

Chloe breathed deeply. “I think that might be them. The rival that Rachel mentioned.”  
Max looked at Chloe, removing her eyes from the spectacle of the three newcomers. “Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid? They’re a paladin - they’re probably just here to test out all those magic items they’ve got on a fresh supply of demons before they head back to the city. I doubt they’re here to steal your glory.”

For some reason, though, the way the paladin had leered at her confirmed to Chloe that this had to be her rival. She stood up and approached the four-person table, standing rather close to the blonde in the mask. Her arms were folded for a moment. “Welcome to Arcadia, newcomers. I’m Chloe Price. What brings you so close to the edge of the Abyss?”

The three looked up for a moment, but then the blonde seemed to recognize the disproportionate attention being paid to them, and stood slowly. They removed their mask, revealing brilliant green eyes. Their pink lips curled up into a smirk. “Why, you’re the demon hunter I’ve heard about. Thank you for your greetings, Chloe - this is Courtney, my companion and sister in arms. This is Taylor, my companion and sister in arms. And I’m Victoria Chase."

They reached out and grasped Chloe’s mechanical hand, shaking firmly. “But you can call me Vicky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldwound - A physical scar in the land caused by a battle of the gods. In the context of this fiction, it also serves as an open door between the Abyss and the Material Plane.  
> The Precipice - The physical edge between the world and the Worldwound  
> Patron - A specific entity who grants a person access to specific powers, such as a demon lord granting control over the dead to a witch who performs its bidding  
> Familiar - A conduit between a patron and a person such as a witch, or a receptacle of magical power, usually in the form of an animal or magical creature.  
> Elysium - A land of incarnate freedom. It’s pretty vague.  
> Valhalla - A land of incarnate heroism, eternally bound to allow the souls of those who died fighting evil (devils, demons, etc) to continue fighting after death  
> Celestial Realm - Any realm in which beings of incarnate good (such as angels) live.  
> Outsider - A creature from a plane of existence other than the Material Plane, such as a demon, devil, angel, or elemental


	3. The Handsome Chevalier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria Chase is eager to prove themself, and soon finds themself caught in a fierce battle against an extraordinary opponent.

##  _When Rovagug appeared, it was not any one God who stood against it. The Gods, many there were, forged a pact in their blood to the King of Hell, the great Lord Asmodeus._

This town was tiny. Tiny and sad. Victoria had hoped for a great deal more by the time of her arrival in the tiny village of Arcadia, but it seemed nothing took place in the night, and it was unclear if anything would happen today, either. They, Courtney, and Taylor planned to set out before noon to ride towards the Precipice, hoping to discover the presence of some great demon that they might slay and drag back to town as proof of their heroism. You know, to instill a certain degree of trust.  
Mornings were long and dull for Victoria. They’d wake every morning and begin their prayers to the gods that granted them power during the day, Cayden Cailen and Calistria, just as they ended in prayers to Desna, goddess of the night sky. Luckily, none of these gods asked too much of them in the way of prayer or offerings. Cayden asked that he be called upon in moments of heroism or at times of feasting. Calistria appreciated being acknowledged in moments of sensual pleasure. Desna asked for a brief prayer before one began to dream or travel, to show that she was remembered.

Today was a morning before the possibility of battle, so when Victoria exited their tiny room to enter the tavern for breakfast, they brought their cold iron mug. They were sat down to a breakfast of surprising variety for so far out, consisting of a pork soup, bread, cheese, milk, and fresh fruits. How did they manage fresh fruits out here? How strange. Neither Taylor nor Courtney were present just yet, but they would be soon - they had done nothing to prove themselves to this town yet, so none of them had gotten drunk or rambunctious the night before, mostly focusing on making introductions to people who seemed important, like the Mayor, the Demonslayer, and a very perky girl by the name of Juliet Watson.

Thus, Victoria was a little confused when they found themself with a new, unfamiliar companion - a girl with long, brown hair and bright blue eyes, robed in such a way that concealed armor. Victoria took a moment before even acknowledging the girl’s presence, instead finishing a few bites of bread and cheese and taking a drink of milk.  
The girl did not seem to have the same patience. “I hear you’re heading to the Precipice today, to demonstrate your prowess to the city guard. I’ll be accompanying you.”

That is what made Victoria finally put down their milk and look the girl in the eye. “You’ve heard that, have you? And who are you?”

The brown-haired girl continued with the serious look, “I’m Maxine Caulfield, druid of the fourth circle. I keep an eye on the Worldwound and thus, Arcadia. We’ll be meeting Chloe today and walking along the perimeter of the Precipice. You’re in luck - a local shaman foresaw that a beast would emerge today, more than the dretches we’ve been cleaning up for the past few weeks. It should be a good opportunity for you.”

Victoria took a long moment while they thought about responding. Honestly, they had never met a druid and were unsure how to respond to women with access to powers similar to those of the gods - direct access to the fabric of the fabric of the world without a go-between like Men and Gods. So it took them a moment. “Well, Max, that sounds lovely - although we planned to demonstrate our worth to the guard of the city, not a lone demon hunter and her friend the wolf woman.”

Maxine seemed to ignore this comment. “It’s Maxine, never Max, Ser Chase. When you and your troop of city girls are ready, I’ll take you to the Precipice.”

* * *

 

It felt weird that Victoria, Courtney, and Taylor all rode on horses while Maxine trotted along ahead of them on foot, holding her simple staff in hand. The trio had all donned their armor, which was one of the uniform elements between them - they all wore steel chain shirts and had rapiers on their left hips. However, the clothes and masks they wore were in great variety, ranging from heavy traveling cloaks patched by burns (Taylor) to fine dresses made to fit over armor (Courtney). Unlike the other two, Courtney had a clear second weapon - a runed shortbow was strapped over her body, a simple leather quiver seemingly permanently affixed over her right shoulder that held a variety of arrows, all with different colored fetching based on magical modifications that she or Taylor had placed on them.

Nevertheless, Maxine did not seem to tire, and within perhaps fifteen minutes the troop discovered exactly what they were looking for - the place where the land ends. Stretching across the land as far as the eye could see in either direction, the very land suddenly cut off along a jagged edge, falling without a discernible end point. Instead, nothing but a sea of red-orange fog extended beyond the edge of the land. Although they were still somewhat distant, Victoria could see the occasional crack of lightning, but if there was a resultant blast of thunder from the static lightning, they could not hear it. Far in the distance, no more than a few paces from the bright glow of the mist beyond the Precipice, a silhouetted figure could be seen walking along.  
Maxine pointed to that figure: “That’s Chloe. Let’s go.”

* * *

 

Soon, the four found themselves together with the blue-haired one, and they paused, the three women dismounting from their horses.  
“Good day, demonslayer,” Victoria greeted, pulling off their mask as they did the day before, approaching Chloe and offering out her hand. They were rather unnerved by the sight of the massive sword that Chloe had hefted over her shoulder, and this effect only grew once they realized that not only was it huge, it was made of adamantine! Metal that is not enchanted but inherently magical, capable of tearing through almost any substance in the material plane, magical or otherwise. That had to put its weight well above one hundred pounds . . . and yet, Chloe did not seem impeded as she walked.

Nevertheless, Chloe casually grasped Victoria’s hand with her own in response, and said, “Hello, you three - hey, Maxine. Now, before we get started, I just wanted to say that the oracle, Rachel, she didn’t specify what would be appearing today, so if it’s anything too big for you three to handle, don’t be afraid to run. Maxine and I live here, we’re used to sizing up our enemies, but whatever you’ve seen in your schools and temples in the cities will not compare to something this close to the Worldwound.”

Victoria crossed their arms over their chest, trying to stand up straight to compare to Chloe, but they simply could not - Chloe had at least three inches and forty pounds on Victoria. Nevertheless, Victoria replied, “You don’t need to worry about us - fighting demons is what paladins are made to do, and my sisters in arms are no slouches either.” This was not entirely true - Taylor had been what you might consider an exceptional student of magic throughout her youth, and despite being the oldest between the three, was likely the least competent. She had trained as a magus - a soldier trained to wield weapons and magic alike - but was removed from academy life after just a few short years as she repeatedly failed exams about the theory of spellcraft.

A smirk crossed Chloe’s face, and Victoria could tell she was eager to teach these city folk a lesson. Victoria’s lips became a thin line as they glared into the bright eyes of the demon slayer. She would get no such satisfaction.

* * *

 

Perhaps an hour passed as the five walked together along the Precipice. While initially frightening, the eerie quiet from beyond the Precipice soon began to feel just like any other quiet - calm, in a sense, and the fields that led to the edge of it contributed to this calm. Nevertheless, everyone was on alert, except maybe Courtney, who seemed eager to share stories of hilariously incompetent knights and the like to Chloe, as Max had rapidly proved herself a sour target for humor.  
After that hour, though, they noticed a new figure along the sudden cliff of the Precipice - sitting with his legs dangling over the edge was the new Man of the town, Warren, sitting with a book in his hands that he was rapidly scribbling into. He didn’t even seem to notice as the gang of warriors approached him until the sound of the horses became too much to possibly ignore. Chloe virtually loomed over him at this point, although she didn’t want to get so close as him to the edge between the world and the Abyss.

“Warren? What are you doing all the way out here?” Chloe seemed deeply confused by this, and thus Victoria took it that they, too, should provide the young man with an incredulous look.

He seemed to find the question odd, “What do you mean?” he asked. “I’m not that far from town.”

Chloe looked back at the others, then back down at him quizzically. “Well, no, but your legs are literally dangling over the Abyss, home to every conceivable vileness in the universe. If you fell you would also literally fall into the Worldwound and be ripped apart as you ended up somewhere between Hell, the Abyss, and the Astral Plane. What do you think you’re doing?”

He sort of shrugged, looking back at his notes and gesturing to them as if Chloe should understand. Victoria could not quite see what he had written from where they were. “I’m trying to understand more about the mist that floats out from the Worldwound and what it has to do with the abyss. There’s no record of the Abyss being particularly . . . foggy or anything, so it seems odd. So I’m making observations.”

Everyone seemed sort of dumbfounded both by what he was saying as well as the casual way in which he said it. The only person who actually found a response was actually who was furthest in back, trying to keep her horse calm so close to the Precipice - Taylor. “Are you an alchemist, sir?”

He nodded, looking past all the people between him and the girl with long, blonde hair. “I am. Uh, my name is Warren, Warren Graham. Who’re you?”

Taylor gestured to herself, “I’m Taylor Christensen, and this is Victoria Chase and Courtney Wagner. There is an alchemy school in the same town I studied at - we made fun of you guys for reckless experiments a lot. Sort of like this.” She gestured forward at the precipice he was sitting on.

He made a somewhat pouty face. “Hey, this isn’t dangerous, really, it’s just- WHOAH!”

Emerging from the mist at an incredible speed came a flying beast. It stood perhaps eight feet tall,  but even more impressive was its at-least-fifteen-feet wingspan, as huge black wings cast a shadow over each of the occupants of the Precipice as it flew shallowly over. The conversation immediately broke as everyone moved away from the Precipice, although Warren took a much longer moment as he shoved his book in his bag before crawling up onto safe land.

“It’s a Vrock!” roared Chloe as the beast descended towards the land, flying perhaps a hundred feet away before making a sharp turn, landing perhaps fifty feet away from the women and Victoria as they fanned out.  
Chloe kept her sword over her shoulder, turning to Victoria. “Now’s your chance, paladin. Let’s see what you can do.”

The three on horses dismounted and drew their weapons - Courtney drew her bow, and the other two drew the rapiers at their sides. They were cautious, as both they and the huge, many-colored, upright bipedal vulture-like demon sized each other up.  
Then, Courtney reached for an arrow. As soon as she knocked it, however, the Vrock opened its beak, and a horrible screech escaped from inside. The sound was so unnatural and powerful that, had Warren been closer, he imagined his bottles would all have shattered.

Both Courtney and Taylor stopped in place, thoroughly stunned by the flood of violet sound the creature made, but, although Victoria winced, they did not stop approaching the Vrock. Instead, after a moment of hesitation, they charged, rapier at their side until, at the last moment, they thrust forward, attempting to bury their magical blade into the Vrock’s heart.  
And then, the Vrock was gone. The horrible screeching ended, but the Vrock was gone. A second later, it reappeared, looming over the now-unarmed Taylor, who dropped her weapon when she was dazed by the Vrock’s screech. After she finally reoriented herself, she realized the Vrock was directly over her, and as it leaned down to bite her and rip her apart with its talons, she screamed, falling down to the ground beside her rapier in hopes of evading it.

It bought her just enough time. A second later, a small vial of liquid flew through the air and hit the wing of the Vrock, and it promptly exploded into a large burst of flame. Curiously, the burst completely evaded Taylor, but completely enveloped the Vrock for a brief moment.  
Unfortunately, when the flames dissapated a moment later, the Vrock stood unharmed, but it had turned to face towards the Precipice, where the row of Warren, Chloe, and Maxine now stood. Warren was already reaching for another vial of the bright yellow-orange substance he’d thrown at the Vrock, but then he seemed to make eye contact with the creature.  
 “Oh shit,” he said, as the Vrock began to shamble towards him, and took a few steps back. This proved to be ultimately unnecessary, as Chloe darted forward between him and  the Vrock with incredible speed, twice that of an ordinary human (nevermind the encumbrance of her sword), and jumped into the air as she brought her blade against the body of the demon. 

The blade sunk in, but it didn’t have nearly the same effect as Warren had observed with the dretch the other day or what Victoria had expected - it submerged effortlessly perhaps an inch or two into the creature’s flesh, then abruptly stopped as black blood swelled out of its body. The blood moved unnaturaly, not flowing like a proper liquid but instead seeming to purposefully travel down Chloe’s blade at an amazing speed, wrapping in tendrils around Chloe’s arms as well as her body. A few seconds later, the blood morphed and changed form, becoming thick, solid vines that rooted Chloe in place, unable to effectively move.

Two arrows thudded ineffectually against the Vrock’s skin, simply breaking apart and falling uselessly to the ground. The Vrock didn’t even look up this time, instead burrowing its beak into Chloe’s tattoo’d shoulder and ripping, blood blowing red over her colorful tattoos.

Courtney hesitated for a moment, but then reached into her quiver and drew, without looking, an arrow with white fetching. She knocked it and fired without further misgiving, and this arrow produced a rather different effect - it burrowed deep into the Vrock’s body, and steam issued out from the wound as well as blood, and the Vrock cried out as it was struck. Courtney smiled for an instance, knowing she had injured it, but then promptly frowned for exactly the same reason as its bright, red-orange eyes became fixed on her.

The Vrock disappeared just as Victoria reached Chloe and Taylor. Victoria seemed unsurprised this time, and instead grasped her necklace as she called out, “Goddess, purge these binds - bless us!” Within seconds of her cry, the vines seemed to soften, and promptly turned back to the thick black blood of the Vrock. Chloe was free.  
“Thanks,” Chloe said, immediately turning around. She could see the Vrock had reappeared, and was now bearing down on Courtney. As she charged, Victoria offered her hand down to Taylor and helped her up, making sure she was all right before rushing to save her other sister in arms.

Neither Victoria nor Chloe was fast enough to reach Courtney. Luckily, Maxine seemed to have been prepared, and before the Vrock could even attack, she swung her staff like a club, and it slammed into the Vrock’s chest with an audible  _wham_. To Victoria’s immense surprise, not only did the Vrock stagger back in response to this, but the air seemed to ripple out towards the impact, like a small distortion in space. Maxine followed up, swinging her staff against the Vrock’s face and sending it flying several feet, the vulture-like demon falling to the ground in response.

Chloe just reached the fallen creature when something peculiar happened - not one, but five Vrocks rose from the ground. She groaned in frustration, familiar with this duplicity illusion among demons, and as she planted her feet in front of the crowd of large creatures, she swung, splitting two of the creatures horizontally, the illusionary bodies disappearing as she made contact with them.  
Courtney seemed to catch on quickly, and she lowered her bow for a moment before letting out a screech of her own - however, the results of hers were more obvious, as a gout of fire emerged mere inches in front of her mouth and bathed the Vrocks in flame, and the remaining illusions disappeared.   
  


Nevertheless, neither of these attacks seemed to have actually harmed the beast. It took the lag following Chloe’s large swing to lunge forward, pouncing on her and pushing her to the ground as it began to maul her, beak, talons, and clawed feat all ripping against her tattoo’d skin. A large portion of her clothing became shredded (this was hardly odd), and an amount of blood began to pool on her body no ordinary human could stand to lose.

Then, Victoria finally arrived. “Begone, demon!” As she said those words, something about her changed - her eyes became without irises or pupils, enveloped in a white light that seemed to pour out of them. Her rapier glowed with a radiance much like her eyes, and she left a trail of glowing air behind her for an instance as she moved. This time, the Vrock was not prepared as their rapier found its way into its back, and with an additional shove from Victoria, promptly pierced its way out its belly. The demon reared back in shock, but this did nothing but hold it further against Victoria’s thin blade.

Somehow having kept ahold of her sword and her life, Chloe pushed upwards into a seated position, and with only a single hand (not even her mechanical one!), shoved her sword into the beast’s chest. It froze for a moment, impaled from both ends as it was, and then it began to convulse, its flesh seeming to rip apart and become like black steam. Within several seconds, it was as if the Vrock had sublimated, and vanished, leaving Chloe on the ground with her sword extended in the air, and Victoria’s almost crossing hers.

Chloe collapsed back down to the ground in a pool of her own blood as well as the demon’s. The glow vanished from Victoria’s body, and she sheathed her sword before crouching down in front of the tattoo’d, bloody warrior. She placed her hand over Chloe’s heart, palm becoming soaked in blood. “Be healed,” she commanded, and Chloe’s wounds began to knit together at once.

“Holy fuck,” Chloe swore, just laying back, soaked in the disgusting mixture she and the Vrock produced. Victoria reached a hand down to her.

“Good job, Vicky, good job,” she said as she stood up from the ground, blood already beginning to drip itself off of her sword and arm, leaving those two pieces of her alone shiny and clean.

She rubbed her shoulder with her metal hand, where the Vrock’s bite had just been. For whatever of her that was exposed by the shredding of her clothes, even more had become bathed in blood.

“Well _that_  was close,” Warren commented as he approached the cluster of people alongside Taylor.

When Taylor saw the state Chloe was in, she gagged momentarily, but forced the words out, “Hey, uh, I’ve got a spell for that.” Then, after a brief, expectant look from Chloe, she said, “Oh!” waved her finger, and the blood and grime covering Chloe began to siphon itself off, pooling into the ground for a moment before vanishing.  
That just left Chloe with shredded clothes. “Oh!” she said again, and rushed over beside Chloe, placing a hand on her shoulder just above her metal arm, touching her shirt. The shirt went taut, and then started to mend itself rapidly.   
Victoria watched this process with a smirk as Chloe’s clothes rapidly started to act like clothes again, but Chloe was too busy staring at Taylor in awe.

“Gods, where have you  _been_  all my life?” When the repair of her clothing was complete, Chloe stuck her sword into the earth and then grasped Taylor into a hug, lifting her up and squeezing her.

Taylor made a squeeing sound, then giggled after she was set back down.

Victoria’s smirk remained, but they asked, “So, examiner Price, do I pass?”

Chloe nodded, leaning on her own sword. “Yes, pally, you pass. Congratulations, your troop can stay in Arcadia free of charge. Welcome to the Abyss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man/Cleric - A person who serves a god by portraying the qualities of that god, such as freedom, goodness, lust, chaos, or community. The Man/Cleric receives power from the God to do its bidding, and the God’s power grows as the world embodies that quality.  
> Woman - Somebody who has sworn themselves to the betterment of other humans. This is generally seen as the basic oath of adulthood for anyone who does not choose to dedicate themself to a God. Synonymous with layperson.  
> Child - Somebody who is either too young to have taken an Oath (of manhood, womanhood, or both) or who has refused to take any oaths.  
> Witchcraft - The performance of magic not tied to a deity, whether granted by a non-God entity or attained through study of the world  
> Sorcerer - Someone with an inborn capacity for witchcraft, such as having a birth under magical circumstances or having the blood of an Outsider  
> Alchemy - Someone who performs magical transmutations without fundamentally upsetting the balance of the universe and without the aid of a god. They are seperated from druids because this is achieved through a mathematical understanding of the universe as opposed to a spiritual one, and is rarely connected to animals or terrains. Sometimes considered witchcraft.


	4. The Lonely Immortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxine achieves the ability to Wild Shape - to assume the form of an animal by tapping into its nature. She discovers a Blighted Land.

##  _When the beast was defeated, Sarenrae, goddess of light, the Dawnflower, tore the world asunder and cast the Rough Beast into the flames of the sun. In this wound of the world, the Lord Asmodeus imprisoned the Destroyer so it may never again ravage the land._

Today had the potential of a good day. Maxine had dreamed all night of the sights of the world as a beast - as a wolf, as a hawk, as a horse. The dreams were vivid and powerful, and as she awoke, she could feel their bodies trembling just under the surface of her skin.  
Maxine did not sleep quite as the others did. When she had arrived in this place, she had found a place not far from the town between it and the Precipice. She had raised pillars of earth and covered them in runes, not of magic, but of meditation. She would sit between these four pillars and breathe, giving away her personhood to the breeze and chill. When she dreamed, it was not as a human dreams. She ceased to be herself and instead became many.

Today when she awoke, she may not have been many, but she was more than herself. She did not move, just as she had not moved throughout the night, instead creating a focused awareness of the world around her. After perhaps an hour, it was not with human feet that she left from between those pillars, but instead those of a large, brown-furred wolf.

* * *

 

Maxine was thrilled to find herself in the body of a wolf again. Many years ago, she had lost the ability and found herself bound to the body of a fragile human. But now, she felt free again. There was a sensory beauty in the body of animals, an indetectible world of vibrations and smells lost in that upright form. She lost track of time, killing when she was hungry, napping without fear. She trekked back and forth from the precipice as she wandered along, further and further from Arcadia. It must have been for days, at least, and each day she found herself in a new form.

On the third night, Maxine was far enough from Arcadia that she was enveloped in a thick forest near the Precipice. She perched, cloaked in the flesh of an owl deep in the night, when the paths of Desna streamed across the sky. It was beautiful in a way, but stars were the territory of beings who struggled in the questions of their existence. They were for another day.

Something emerged in the wood. Something that Maxine had no real words for, not as a person nor as an animal. It came as a stumbling sound, light but clumsy. Her head turned towards the sound that moved without hesitation, and soon it came into sight. In the simplest of ways, the druid knew that she could describe it: it gleamed white and clean, the skeletal frame of a human. And while in a world such as hers such creatures were known to roam, this was no ordinary skeleton, held together by nothing more than magic and an abandonment of one’s senses. Instead, thick vines wrapped around its bones like thick muscle fibers, and from skull grew great colonies of fungus. It moved with purpose, hustling across the forest floor, all other animals fleeing at its quiet approach. As it moved, it seemed not to detect any qualities of the forest around it - instead, the vines wriggled around its frame, reinforcing the legs against impacts, pulling the bones along.

Whatever this was, it was disturbed. And it brought Maxine back to her humanity in its wrongness. She began to fly after it, stopping when she passed it to watch, then continuing her pursuit after a few minutes. This continued on and on as the skeleton made a steady slope towards the Precipice over the course of perhaps two hours.

When they reached the edge of the wood, Max could see that it ended several hundred yards before the Precipice, giving way to a land of cracked earth and mud like the bile of the land. The skeleton traversed this land with difficulty, but refused to give up its quest. In the distance, Maxine could see what drew this strange abomination forward - on the edge of the precipice of this blighted land, a small stone castle stood - or rather, the remnants of one. It was clear that, whatever this structure was, it had existed before the creation of the Worldwound, for much of it leaned in towards the abyss, and much of it had clearly crumbled away.  
As she perched on the edge of the woods, a feeling of dread gripped her both as a person as well as an animal. This land was unnatural and filled with evil. There was nothing strange that a skeleton, or whatever abominable variation she had observed, would be attracted to it. What was odd, rather, was that this creature existed at all.

She had a good idea of who was at fault.

The druid began to fly back to Arcadia, having regained her sense of direction. She knew her form would not last long, so she made the most of it, flying with haste, undisturbed through the night. The woods underneath passed quickly, and she found herself once again flying over the rolling wheat hills of familiarity.  
But something was wrong. Often, dark things stalked the land at night, hiding in the grain and preying on anything that lived. These shapes were typical and expected, and helped to occupy her by the day. But tonight, different forms crawled over the hills in a loose cluster, trailed by a distinct other person. As she flew closer to the ground, she realized what they were - four more of these shambling skeletons with muscles of plants: some covered in bark, another composed of vines, and one that seemed slow-moving, its innards of algae and its sinew of seaweed.

Her low flight revealed the final, stalking figure - a woman of Arcadia. Justin Williams. She swooped to the ground behind her, and then found her feet placed to the ground, her staff in her hand as she materialized as a human once again.  
Justin seemed not to notice this, and she began to follow her for a time. Justin followed the skeletons at a distance, as if eager to keep the skeletons in sight but not wanting to be seen.  
After a time of this series of pursuits, though, Maxine grew tired of it and hurried her step until she came behind Justin, tapping her shoulder with her staff from a distance.

“Holy fuck-nugs of Cally WHAT?”

Justin spun around to face the druid with long brown hair as she placed her staff down against the ground. All elements of stealth were abandoned, but only one of the skeletons seemed to notice - the one composed of algae. It began to saunter clumsily towards Maxine and Justin, but neither took notice.

“Why are there undead here, in my land?” It was posed as a question, but it was a clear accusation. Justin was a specialist in witchcraft involving plant matter. There were skeletons of plant matter wandering the countryside miles from Arcadia.

“Uhhhh . . .” Justin began, at a bit of a loss. She was clothed in heavy garments, with thick boots and gloves. She’d been working late into the night, however many hours ago. She was filthy, and her eyes seemed bloodshot in intense contrast to the haggardness of her features. She’d been pursuing these creatures for hours. “They . . . um. I found them.”

Maxine scowled. “Necromancy is outlawed in Arcadia. You know that. Your work is supposed to help us trade, not build an army.”

Justin’s tone rapidly shifted towards exasperation and defensiveness, “Well, they’re not that sort of undead! The skeletons aren’t even animate - it’s the vines. I didn’t practice death magic, I swear.”

The druid was not impressed. “Where did you even get the bodies, Justin? We consecrate them around here.”

The skeleton was starting to get much closer, and Maxine took notice of this. Justin, with her back turned, still failed to do so, as the skeletons didn’t actually make all that much noise. “Well, like I said - totally not animate skeletons. But . . . anyway, we found them beneath the greenhouse, where we farm the Underdark stuff.”

Maxine’s lips pursed; “If they weren’t created with necromancy, why are they headed towards a blighted castle right now?”

Justin seemed terribly confused. “Are they? That’s weird . . .” she took a moment to think about this, the skeleton starting to get decently close - maybe one hundred feet away, then, “Oh . . . shiiiiiiit. They were animated to tend to the land, keep it healthy, y’know. Except I guess I didn’t specify, like, which land.”

The skeleton was about thirty feet behind Justin now. Maxine sighed in response to Justin’s comments, and slammed her staff into the ground. This made Justin jump, but it had another effect - a bolt of lightning suddenly jumped from the sky and struck the skeleton, blasting it to bits and sending bits of algae and seaweed in a good ten foot radius.  
Justin finally turned around, noticing the remnants of her work plus the blast. “Awww! Gods . . . they were not easy to make.”

Maxine continued to give Justin a negative look, but gave her a moment to mourn her (likely expensive) research project before confronting her, “I think we’ll need to review your oaths, Justin.”

* * *

 

There was an official building within the city for the handling of disputes of any proportion when arbitration in a conflict became necessary. It was not for nothing that the town and the land were called Arcadia - it was deeply tied to the order of hell. Of course, hell had great stakes in maintaining a presence so close to the Abyss, the source of some of its greatest enemies. Nevertheless, the people of Arcadia benefited from Hell’s presence in a very specific way - through the presence of the Prescott family.  
The Prescott family line was well documented but kept secret from the outside world. It was commonly acknowledged that they were a closely-related family whose blood was closely connected with Hell, and that the powers of this blood were transmitted through the patriarchy. On a more personal level, all members of Arcadia, except those very, very new, were familiar with a particular man: Sean Prescott, the official Oathkeeper of Arcadia as well as the surrounding lands.

In this official building there is a somewhat less official room where the vast majority of disputes are handled. And it was in this room that Sean Prescott sat across from Justin today, to take testimony on each of the women who worked on the construction of the  _Plantae sapiens_ , as they seemed almost affectionately called.

Max waited outside of the building while examination of the oaths was taking place. Unlike in many parts of the world, places blessed with infernal blood often had a benefit in the form of an Oathkeeper. An oathkeeper was a descendant of a very specific type of devil - a contract devil. These contract devils are precisely what they seem - they bind the fate of those involved to the provisions of the contract. Such a contract was required of all who wished to live permanently in Arcadia in order to ensure the harmony of a community with such an important duty. While an Oathkeeper might not have the binding power over one’s soul that a Contract Devil might, they were impervious to lies and all manners of falsehood from any who signed a contract to them.

One by one, the students of Michelle Grant began to file out of the courthouse. Max inquired of each of them in turn.

Justin hung her head as she exited the courthouse, which Max took as a sign that she had been banished. “Was your oath broken?” Max asked.  
Justin was quiet for a moment, and then she responded, “No . . . no, the oathkeeper says I am not at fault. But it is my fault - I was the one tending to the plantae when they escaped.”

While this was hardly the crime Maxine had sought to expose, she was as confused as Justin that no action had been taken. But as she asked Trevor, Greg, and Lionel in turn, she found that each of these women had been found not at fault for the creation and loss of the animated plant skeletons.

Finally, the last woman on trial emerged, “And what of you, Michelle? How did the oathkeeper rule?”  
The soft-spoken woman shook her head. “Banished. I can’t understand why, and master Prescott did not elaborate on his sentencing. I did not even know of this project, nor would I have condoned it, as interesting as their line of research may have been. But I am to be gone from Arcadia by sunset this following morning.”  
Pity filled Maxine’s heart, but she had few condolences to give. Most likely, Prescott had chosen to show mercy to the many and blame the negligence of the woman in charge for their misdeeds, but this did not sit right with her. Michelle strayed home soon after, and Sean Prescott was the last to emerge.

Sean Prescott was a tall man, always to be seen wearing black robes emblazoned with the Red Star, as well as carrying a heavy platinum symbol of the red star on a necklace. He stood several inches taller than Maxine, perhaps six feet tall, and his crimson, glowing eyes betrayed his infernal heritage, as did his thin, colorless lips. Many could not stand to look him in the face, as his blood and appearance reminded people of the King of Hell, but this was not the case of the druid with piercing blue eyes.  
  
“Ah, Lady Maxine, lovely to see you here. I heard you discovered this petty experiment last night?”  
Maxine nodded curtly. “I unfortunately did, and it led me to a blighted land as well - I suppose that’s where the remaining subjects fled to.”  
Sean Prescott’s head cocked to one side. “I did not know such a thing was so close to Arcadia. What was the source of the blight?”  
For some reason, Maxine had no desire to share this with the oathkeeper, but she knew she had no capacity to deceive him, “An ancient castle of human design, split by the Worldwound. It is about two day’s travel north of here.”

The tall man with strawberry blonde hair seemed to nod to himself for a moment. “Curious . . .” but, after a moment, he collected himself. “Well, my lady, I hope you are satisfied with the results of today - Arcadia shall remain safe from upsetting balances for a while longer.”  
Maxine said nothing, and the oathkeeper took this as a sign that the conversation was over.

However, as he turned to leave, the druid spoke up, “If you would allow me, I would like to see your son again soon. My powers have been returning to me, and I may be able to throw off the curse of the Elder Ones soon enough.”

Sean Prescott paused in his tracks, then slowly turned towards Maxine. A deliberate smile became stuck on his lips. “Perhaps we should wait until you are certain of your abilities before we . . . take any more risks with Nathan, hmm? The powers of elves may be vast, but they take time to work. Give yourself time, my lady elf.”

That stung the druid, to be reminded of her past life. She stood in silence as the oathkeeper turned and left, uncertain and unaware of the ramification of today’s events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Pact - The agreement between the Gods to certify how the worlds may be ruled, fair play in holy wars, a maximum allowed number of heralds, as well as other affairs, large a small, to be sorted out. An amendment was eventually added to explain the role of mankind and other races in relation to the gods, which is often the Pact referred to by humanity. It stipulates that ‘Men must serve the gods’, which is taken highly literally.  
> Alignment - Certain forces in the d&d universe do not exist in ours, and share the same wordings as our ideologies. Some examples are Good, Evil, Liberation, Slavery, Community, Independence, Lust, Confusion, and Death. These forces are under the survey of certain gods and physically exist, but are only significantly impacted by Men, servants of gods. Women instead are judged by Morality. If someone is aligned with Evil, for instance, it is because they embody a fundamentally destructive force - it does not explain what this force destroys or how this evil is carried out, nor is strictly defined or bound by any given context. Nevertheless, it exists.


	5. The Quiet Observer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate Marsh may keep to herself, but she sees many interesting things around Arcadia. A brief tryst takes her for the night, but, in the morning, something looms over the hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to skip the sexual content of this chapter, ignore the italics section near the bottom. It's not particularly explicit.

##  _And so it was that the world was free from fear of the Maw of Nothing. So it began that the beings of the world were tasked to keep the Rough Beast imprisoned in eternal fire - that they might weaken its domain over death, chaos, and destruction._

It should be clear by now that there were many routines that dictated life in Arcadia, that kept it in balance, that kept it safe. Even those who had arrived only weeks ago, like Warren and Victoria, had patterns of behavior. But most people just seemed to concern themselves with their own pattern, only aware of those directly around them, who they relied on. But there was one child who did not see things like this. Instead, she just thought of her day as an opportunity to observe the lives, the patterns of everyone else.

Her name was Kate Marsh and her days were riddled with conflict. She awoke before dawn both by habit and in response to the soft padding of feet as Victoria snuck out of Chloe’s room above the tavern almost every morning. She would take a moment to make sure Victoria would not hear her and Chloe would not suspect her, then sit up to dress. She wore the simple clothes of one who attended the tavern, carefully putting each piece on and inspecting it in a small mirror. She made sure to pull out the necklace of the red cross, the symbol of her goddess, Sarenrae. She sat and brushed her hair as she awaited dawn, ensuring it was all smooth before she pulled it into a bun, leaving maybe a third of it to hang around her face.

She would leave the inn and saunter into the open doors, joining the dispersed congregation, sitting down on a prayer mat next to her mother Garett. Her father Linda would recite a passage from  _The Birth of Light and Truth_. Today, the story was one among many - the story of how Sarenrae smote down the great Hydra of the north. The story was not simply an epic - it described precisely how she did so, using a blade of flame to cauterize each head as she fought, ending the foul duplication that had created the beast with one hundred heads. These stories were recited every morning to remember the deeds of the goddess to whom this whole world owed their lives, for, even to this day, she, and all signers of the contract, kept them safe. Linda’s perfect knowledge of the stories, in reciting them, always helped to end the story just as the first rays of dawn began to illuminate the temple in rose-colored light, bathing the blade-wielding lady of flames, a brilliant statue with a sword of eternal flame in the temple.  
When dawn struck, the small congregation would end with the final words to humanity regarding the contract.

_“To be a Man is to serve the gods, in return for the gift they have blessed us with. To be a Woman is to serve the world, to strengthen one another, and to protect this world. Blessed is humanity for their love.”_

It was in this conclusion that Kate often found difficulty containing herself. It filled her with fear in a sense, aware as she had always been of the presence of the Abyss so close, knowing how they relied on Sarenrae. But at the same time, she felt an intimacy with that marble statue, a warmth from the flame that did not truly burn. She knew many Gods participated in saving the world, but only to one did she feel devotion.  
After the prayer of dawn, the congregation was always led outside to bask in the early dawn. In a larger community, there might have been dancing, communal breakfast, some form of celebration. But here, for many, the prayer of the morning was the only ceremony they needed. Her family needed to tend the tavern for breakfast. The mayor, Man of Abadar, always had something to attend to. Perhaps one of the only people Kate imagined would join her, given the opportunity, was Courtney, the black-haired singer and sister in arms to Victoria. Nevertheless, finding no one else, Kate and Courtney invariably shuffled off - Kate to tend to the tavern, Courtney to sleep further.  
It had bothered Kate for quiet some time that the people she most perceived as being like Sarenrae were two that never came to the prayer. The first had never come in all her years - Chloe Price, the majestic warrior who guarded over Arcadia, and Victoria Chase, the beautiful paladin who smote down enemies of the gods as part of their daily routine.

Soon after the prayer, the occupants of the inn’s outside rooms would begin to siphon in, and Chloe would come down from her room above it. They would ordinarily soon be met by Maxine, the mysterious, brown-haired woman who slept outside of town. Between these five as well as her own family, Kate stayed busy, distributing food and tea, keeping the tables clean, and otherwise being quiet but productive. Today, however, Maxine was missing - and this was the third day in a row. Chloe sat alone in the corner of the room, leaning back in her chair as she apparently contemplated her food. 

Soon afterward, Warren entered the tavern as well. He ate little, and always seemed to bring at least one book that would dominate his lonesome table. Some days he would sit, scrawling in a journal of sorts, and wet ink would leak from it, occasionally dripping on the table. Sometimes he would have three books out, and his eyes would dart between them as he hastily flipped through pages, his fingers tracing some indistinguishable pattern. He did this without seeming to notice much, but Kate saw someone else with a similar ritual, only much more discreet. Every morning, Taylor would sit with a thick volume in her lap and slowly turn through it, half paying attention to the conversation between her, Victoria, and Courtney.  
Today, though, Courtney and Victoria seemed particularly animated, especially Victoria, who kept glancing over at Chloe and making snide remarks about the ‘little barbarian’ in the corner, lost without ‘her tree-humping lover’. Kate knew that, to some degree, this must be an act - these certainly were not the names for Chloe that issued out of Victoria’s mouth in the night, but the feelings of contempt in them seemed . . . genuine.

Nevertheless, Taylor seemed irritated by this game today. Once she finished her meal, she abruptly stood and snapped, “I can’t really handle this talk today. I’m just going to study in my room . . . I’ll see you both in an hour.”  
Victoria looked taken aback, but Courtney just gave her a patronizing look, as if to say she were acting petulant. “What the fuck’s your problem this morning?” She asked snidely.

Taylor seemed . . . inappropriately frustrated for the situation. “I just really need to study, okay? I can’t fight because the gods let me, or because I was just born with it - I actually have to work.”

Victoria leaned forward against the table, a smirk crossing their face. “Well, don’t let us keep you. I’m sure you’ll come back with all sorts of new tactics now that we won’t be . . . distracting you.”

Taylor huffed a little, picked up her book, and turned to leave. As she opened the door to exit the tavern, though, her head snapped back towards the inside of the room, but not towards where she had been sitting. Instead, her eyes fell on Warren’s books, then on Warren himself. After standing with the door open for several seconds of hesitation, she suddenly changed her mind and closed it. She marched up behind Warren and looked over his shoulder more intently this time. He seemed to not really notice.  
“Is that a _‘False Life’_  spell you’re making?”

Warren seemed startled, jumping a little in his seat before turning to see the blonde woman leering at his books, now looking inquisitively at him. She seemed waiting for a response.  
He cleared his throat, “Well, um, yeah. I guess so. I mean, I’m not a spell caster, I’m an alchemist, but I thought it might help during a big monster hunt or something . . .”

She nodded for a moment, then seemed to think of something new. “Hey . . . Warren. Would you mind if I studied with you?”

He seemed terribly confused, and looked from her, over to Victoria and Courtney, and then back to her. Then back to Victoria and Courtney. Then finally back to Taylor. “Um, yeah, I guess?”  
She nodded, and dragged a seat next to him, plopping her spell book down on the table as well. “Thanks,” she muttered, and they settled in as Kate picked up Taylor’s abandoned plate.

Near the end of the meal, Kate witnessed a peculiar scene. Chloe had already disappeared from the tavern. Victoria and Courtney stood up to head to the Precipice, and they stopped in front of Taylor and Warren’s table as they were leaving. “Well, ready now, Taylor? It’s time to go.”

Warren and Taylor’s chatter died as soon as they were approached, and Warren just seemed to try and keep his eyes busy away from the little scene. However, Taylor looked right up at Victoria. “Not today, Victoria. I think I need to stay here today and learn more. I should be ready in a day or two.”

Victoria scoffed, “Are you serious? You’re going to stay here to read books while we’re out fighting the spawn of the abyss? Really?”

Taylor’s face was pinched into a glare, weak though it may have been. “You should go. I’ll be good to go soon.”

“Well, whatever,” Victoria’s hands raised into the hair in mock defeat, and they and Courtney exited.  
Warren and Taylor sat in awkward silence for a moment. “Well,” Warren began, “Normally I’d go check out the Worldwound right about now . . . you want to go with me?”  
Taylor nodded and smiled momentarily, blowing on the fresh ink of her pages. After a few breaths of  this, she said, “I’d love to. There hasn’t been much time for . . . academia here.”

* * *

 

Later that day, Juliet entered the tavern, granting eager glances to all within sight. It was in the middle of the day so there were few takers present, but Juliet eventually caught Kate’s eye and zipped on over to her. “Kate - big news.”  
Kate stood upright, holding her broom in the crook of her arm while being addressed. This was hardly an odd thing for Juliet to do, but she really liked undivided attention, “What’s got you so excited, Julie?”  
The blonde with a side bun (you know, as opposed to the blonde with a top-bun) developed a buggy face for a moment, her hands raising just below her chin and performing tiny, silent claps. “So, just, like, half an hour ago, the Man Prescott found out the Greenhouse Girls were up to something weird. I don’t know what, exactly, but he exiled Ms. Grant from Arcadia.”

Kate’s eyes went wide, “What? Just like that, she’s gone? What for?” Kate had always liked Michelle. She was kind and quiet, never mind the fact that she was the closest thing Arcadia had to a doctor, although herbalist might be a more apt description, as she hung somewhere between a believer in alchemy and witchcraft. Linda had never been particularly fond of her but, then again, he was not particularly fond of many people.

Juliet shrugged, “Well, I don’t have a clue! Maxine is not known for her capacity to gossip, now is she? And she’s the only one who knew what happened.”  
Kate found herself left . . . uncomfortable. Most likely just due to the fact that Sean Prescott was involved at all. Unlike his children, who were sociable, likeable creatures, Sean Prescott tended to leave people on edge. Nathan and Kate had even been friends before his encounter with the Elder Gods, but since that event, her family had not permitted her to see him at the Prescott estate.

“I think . . . I think I should go see my father,” Kate said, and disposed of her broom.

* * *

 

And thus Kate found herself trekking over the hills towards Rachel’s hut. In her hands she held a tall bronze candlestick, wrought in the shape of the Dawnflower, hands position so that she appeared to be holding up the flames that were not yet there. It always confused Kate why people put so much effort into finely decorated objects that they gave to Rachel, when she imagined she would prefer things of fine textures and materials - they had to be more valuable to her. 

When she reached the step, she held the candlestick carefully, leaving the wick just a few inches from her mouth. She opened her mouth and breathed gently over the candle. A few seconds later, a fire sprung up up on the candle, bright and dancing. Smiling, Kate leaned down and placed the candle on the first step down to Rachel’s hut.  
The instant she did, however, a voice from inside called out, “You don’t have to wait for tomorrow night, Kate Marsh. Enter, and bring your gift.”

This was unusual - never once had Kate been allowed to enter the hut without the day’s delay between gift and entrance. Not even the mayor was granted that privilege - it was rather exclusive to Chloe and, in very special occasions, Dana. Nevertheless, Kate was not one to refuse Rachel, so she hastily scooped up the candlestick and opened up the door, bathed in the heat of the fire that never went out. The room was dense with smoke today, and it likely would have been uninhabitable for anyone except for Kate and, of course, Rachel.  
Kate bowed as she entered, then moved to set the lit candle on one of the many curved tables reserved for offerings. “Thank you, my lady Amber. Thank you.”

Rachel gestured forward, her fingers mere inches from the flame, “Please sit, Kate. Tell me what troubles you.” Kate had, on the few occasions she had entered the hut at all, found it so strange how Rachel’s dog’s eyes would follow you around the room, and yet Rachel almost always gazed, as if expectant, into the fire.

Nevertheless, Kate did as asked and sat on the mat across from the blonde oracle. She took a moment to breathe and bask in the uncomfortable warmth of the fire. While it was not pleasant to sit so close to, Kate knew that no harm could come to her from it. Fire had never been able to touch her, for it filled her. The firebrand was inside of her, and no domain of Sarenrae’s would touch her. Even if this flame was bound to Asmodeus, Kate knew that the kinship of the two gods, however frail, kept her safe from this room of poison as others would experience it.

“Today, Lady Grant was excused from Arcadia. I do not know how we will fare without her knowledge and wisdom here.” Kate played around with her fingers, looking down at them to avoid looking straight into the fire. Immune as she might be to fire, the brightness still hurt her eyes.

Rachel was quiet for a moment, and then she said slowly, “It is not Michelle Grant that Arcadia cannot afford to lose. Her expertise is in her students, her healing in your father - what do you have to fear?”

Kate clung onto very few of those words. “When you say we can afford to lose her . . . is there someone we cannot afford to lose?”

A knowing smile crossed the oracles lips. “Yes,” she replied.

This worried Kate all the more, and she leaned forward on the mat. “Who, then? Who could that be?”

“Purity,” Rachel replied quickly, and then chuckled a little to herself. Kate gave her the moment, hoping she would be elaborate. “Kate Marsh,” she began again, “I am sorry. Even in Arcadia, death is coming. And you will be left alone.”

A chill ran down Kate’s spine at that, in complete ignorance of the heat she bathed in. “What do you mean? Why will I be alone? Whose death?”

The smile on Rachel’s face turned sour, slowly. “I could tell you, but . . . you would not understand. You are safe, child. Free yourself from fear. It is your only way.”

* * *

 

It was well into the night when Kate returned, having set off to the oracle just after the prayer of dusk. As she shuffled back towards the inn, somebody emerged from its door. She would not have taken notice, except, after a second, they turned and approached Kate, and she found herself face to face with the raven-haired bard, Courtney.  
“Katie? You’re getting home late . . . are you all right?”  
She must be noticeably upset. She rapidly tried to construct a happier face, but it was rather ineffective, “No, I’m all ri-”

“Yeah, yeah, nice try, Katie. Do you want to talk to me about what’s wrong?”

Kate shook her head. She didn’t even know what was wrong, precisely, and she had even less of an idea of how to talk about it, nevermind with Courtney.

Courtney continued to look at her, and her expression was surprisingly soft. “Would it be all right if I used a  _calm emotions_  spell, Kate? I don’t want you to feel upset. You’re a positive presence all over the place . . . will you let me?”

Kate’s lips pursed. She took a moment to think about it. She felt . . . dismissed in a way, but she also knew that it was the only thing the bard could do, especially when Kate wasn’t willing to talk to her. There was a long pause, but then the blonde said, “Okay.”

Courtney gave her a warm smile, and then reached down and scooped Kate’s hands into her own. “Here, look me in the eye. It helps.”  
Kate nodded, and complied, meeting Courtney’s dark eyes for a moment before Courtney said the ridiculous, simple words of power. “Be still,” she said, just above a whisper, and within seconds, all of Kate’s feelings of dread and concern disappeared.  
“Thank you,” she whispered, and Courtney grinned.

“Absolutely any time, girl. This is a heavy place - there’s no need to handle it all yourself.” With that, Courtney tugged on Kate’s hands and pulled her into a tight hug for a moment. Kate blushed, but her own hands were slow to respond, and the hug was broken before she got a chance to return it.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she promised, and then returned to her little home outside of the inn.

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

_Hours later, Kate was awoken by a muffled knock on one of the doors on the upstairs. She recognized this signal. A moment later, the door next to hers opened, and she knew Victoria entered Chloe’s room. There was silence for a while, but Kate blinked, focusing to become awake, anticipation gripping her. For some reason, the expectant feeling that came to her when she heard those two made her shiver, and she wrapped herself tightly in her blanket, but she made no effort to fall asleep. She wanted to hear what came next._   
_And she was rewarded. After a few minutes, she could hear Victoria’s breaths become heavy, permeating the wall between them. The feeling in her spine crawled out, around her torso and down her legs. Her mind drifted from her room to the one next door. As hateful as they acted during the day, Kate could not tell if they expressed their true feelings down there or up here. But for now, she hear tenderness and aggression. Quiet insults drifted from Victoria’s mouth upon occasion, but those began to disappear as her breathing became more labored._

_Kate imagined that she could feel Chloe’s touch, too. She imagined that it was her legs splayed out, while the blue haired beauty sat on her knees, making her warm, making her moan. It was Chloe’s hands that pushed her legs apart, not hers. It was Chloe’s kisses that created hot spots over her navel, not her own timid fingers. It was Chloe’s tongue between her legs, not her own gentle stroking. She never felt closer to Victoria, as distant as the two were, than when she imagined that Chloe’s pleasured them both in the deep on the night._   
_The insults were gone, and the breathing became like an engine that propelled Kate’s fingers on and on in small circles, wetness coating her vulva as her own breathing became labored._   
_Then, a new name came from Victoria for Chloe, and it came softly, “Oh, babe,” Kate heard from the pleading voice. And as much as she liked to imagine herself as Victoria in this scenario, something about that name pleased her. She wished Victoria could talk to her like that in the night. She wished she could transform vile insults into beckoning warmth as the blonde’s cum coated her tongue. As lost as she was in her fantasy, she barely even noticed as she pressed her fingers inside of her, a small gasp escaping her lips._   
_Luckily, no one else seemed to hear. A few seconds later, Victoria’s breathing became even more muffled, and she knew their mouth was being covered. Victoria was coming close. Kate’s fingers sped back and forth like the tiny vibrations of a violin, and she began to rock her hips against her fingers as she felt them inside. To pleasure Victoria, to feel Chloe’s lips around her clitoris . . . these desires drove her on, further and further, but she did not have the preparation of a careful hand like Victoria did. As Victoria’s stifled moans filled the room next to her, Kate’s legs tensed to the point they almost hurt, and she felt herself, Chloe, her imagination and herself together, deep inside of her while her rapidly moving fingers spread heat through her flushed body. Her breaths almost sounded panicked, as as the wave of release struck her, she rolled in her bed to stifle her cries._

_Something was different, though. There was no further sound from the room next door for a second, and she hesitated, seeking the stimulus of her fantasies, wanting it to continue. Instead, a moment later, she only heard whispering._   
_Then, there was a quiet knock on her door. She thought she must have imagined it, except that it came twice. Nervous, she wrapped herself in her sheets, stood, and approached the door._   
_She did not have to open the door with her hands. When she willed it, it opened. On the other side of the doorway, she found the dark silhouettes of the two figures, tall and broad, and she recognized them._

_“Kate?” came the first whisper, that of Chloe’s._

_Kate was filled with nervousness. What if they had heard her? What would they say to her for eavesdropping, for how she had been treating them in her thoughts? She could not help her extraordinary senses, but she could help how she responded to them. She bit her lip. “I’m here,” she said quietly._

_It was Chloe who responded again, “Was that you we just heard, love?” There was a strange tenderness in the way Chloe was talking. Kate realized, then, slowly, how defensive Chloe’s words normally - she had never realized they had much capacity for softness. Nevertheless, her face filled with heat, and she stared down at the feet of the two beautiful beings in front of her._   
_“Yes . . . I’m sorry.”_

_Victoria’s words emerged now, and although they were less steady than Chloe’s, they were no less gentle: “Was it because of us? Can you . . . hear us?”_

_Kate nodded, but she realized they might not be able to see this. She took a moment before she could make her words confirm what she had just communicated. “Yes . . . I’m sorry. I heard you - I mean, I hear you often. And I just . . .”_

_There was a silence. Then, it was Victoria who spoke again, but this time, they took a step into Kate’s room. “Would you like us to join you, Kate?”_

_Both Kate and Chloe seemed to stare at Victoria, surprised. But, as they did this, Victoria’s posture changed - they removed their arms from their chest, raising one instead along the doorway and leaving the other to hang down by their leg. Their posture changed from tentative to open. “I . . . what? I don’t understand,” Kate replied, her brain seeming to shut off to ensure that she could not work it out._

_Victoria took another step inside the room, their hips adopting an unusual sway. Kate’s nervousness became amplified twofold._   
_“I mean . . . would you like Chloe and I to join you in bed, Katie? Would you like to Know us, and us to Know you?”_

_At first, Kate was silent as her anxiety peaked, but something about Victoria’s presence made it seem to fade away, melting down out of Kate’s chest until it seemed to vanish. Instead, it became replaced with something else. And Kate found herself taking a step forward. Her reply came with a breath, quiet but sharp, “Yes.”_

_As Victoria took the final step between them, Chloe stepped inside and slowly closed the door behind them, shutting it with practiced quietness. Victoria’s finger wrapped around the top of Kate’s blanket and tugged it gently. Kate released her hold of it, and Victoria’s fingers caught it before it fell, tossing it off to the side of the bed. Kate could detect the scent of fresh cum from Victoria, but she could not bring herself to reach out until she felt Victoria’s soft fingers on the side of her face._   
_Kate leaned up then, up onto her toes, still not quite tall enough as Victoria was forced to lean down, wrapping their spare arm around Kate’s waist and pulling her close as their lips met. They were tentative at first, and Kate could feel Victoria’s surprise as Kate’s lips increased the passion of the moment, letting the hungry lust from before return to her. She was left a little dazed as their warm kiss broke, especially as the support of Victoria’s arm left her, but then she felt new, bigger, rougher hands on her hips. She turned with a little yelp as she looked up at Chloe._   
_“Sssh, love,” Chloe chided, smiling, and ran a hand gently through Kate’s hair. Then, their lips came together and melted, and Kate was struck by the mixed sensations of Chloe’s lips and the sweet secretions on them. She wanted to taste them for herself._

_She, slowly, descended to her knees in front of Victoria, her fingers gently stroking the length of their leg as she pressed her lips to their thighs, kissing softly. Victoria’s gentle smile increased, and a gentle groan escaped her lips, but then her fingers buried themselves in Kate’s hair, and she held her still for a little moment. Kate’s eyes turned up, cresting over the sculpted body of the paladin, who seemed to radiate a little light even in the darkness here._   
_“No, no . . . not tonight, Katie. Let us take care of you. Tell us exactly what you want.”_

_It dawned on Kate, then, that her fantasies had been made flesh. As she sat on the bed and began to whisper, her words became hands on her body, her dreams became kisses on her breasts, her desires bit down on Chloe’s bottom lip as orgasm after orgasm swelled in her and was licked clean by Victoria’s greedy mouth._

* * *

 

It was soon before dawn, but Victoria still had not had the sense to escape from the room. Kate lay between the two warriors, rivals and lovers, and their warmth protected her. She was unsure what had occurred. Not in a physical sense, but in an intimate one. She knew the following day that these two would return to their bitterness and meanness, but she felt safe against their bodies.

Victoria, eventually, did have the sense to depart, but Chloe was not so used to starting the day so early. As Kate tried to wake her, she became distracted by what she could not see in the deep darkness of the night - the spiral of tattoos that covered Chloe’s body. She began to study them, even if she could not understand them, pulling the blanket that covered them down further and further to inspect them. She did not know the script, but she recognized it from Chloe’s sword, as well as the arm that sat on Kate’s bedside table, waiting for the sleeping guardian. They were so beautiful; they compelled Kate to, as she rose to dress herself for the prayer of dawn, to kiss once along every line, trailing up Chloe’s spine. She would twitch in her sleep at them, but she did not wake up, and as Kate reached her neck, a sense of satisfaction filled her.

Kate first realized that something was wrong almost as soon as she stepped out the door of the tavern. Most recognizably, there was no one moving towards the church for the prayer of dawn. Many stood about, but they all stared to the north, towards a row of hills that left Arcadia in a shallow valley. She did not realize what alerted them to that direction at first, but then she could hear it - in long, heavy pulses, a great wave of movement was making its way up the hills. It was so steady that she did not immediately recognize it as movement.

And then, they appeared. The first was clear, for its horns emerged over the hill as a silhouette - a great beast with the horns of an elk, it stood twice as tall as the rest, and its giant cloven feet struck the earth like the peals of a church bell. Then, came the others - people, as they at first appeared to be, in a wide line spanning on either side of the beast. She only just came to notice what was strange about them - their slow, shuffling gait, and the moans that occasionally escaped their lips - when the whole procession stopped. They simply stood for perhaps twenty seconds while the townspeople remained frozen in fear.

And then, the tall beast raised up its head, and released a roar unlike anything Kate had ever heard. It was a scream into the world, bestial and yet as clear as any language - they were here for blood.

Then, its scream became replied, as the townsfolk began to shriek. And, as they did, the procession began to move again, in a great sprint towards the town of Arcadia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morality - These are the standards by which creatures judge themselves and others. It is highly relative, but often based on the traits of gods. Nevertheless, morality is still fully functional and socially factual within most societies. Because of the potential conflicts between Men and Women due to the separation of Morality and Alignment, women are most often left to judge women, and men to judge men.  
> Gender - Gender in the context of my fic is purely in relation to the social AND spiritual distinction between someone who has dedicated themself to the gods or not. Morally, all people are expected to behave for the betterment of the universe, but how they are expected to do so is dictated by the gender they choose. Not all societies are binary in this sense, as someone can dedicate themselves to either gender, to both genders, or to neither. In addition, only Humans classify themselves according to gender, as they only take into account the portion of the contract that specifically applies to them. Reproductive capacity is not considered relevant for the purpose of gender, and these ideas are entirely divorced, as reproduction is significantly more complicated and diverse within the d&d universe, especially for humans. Certain races, such as orcs, do enforce gender standards more like those we see today.


	6. The Desperate Mage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having been tracked from the Blighted Lands, Max Caulfield has unwittingly brought a procession of undead and their wendigo master to the door of Arcadia Bay. Can the heroes of the city defeat this creature before its powers cause the village to consume itself?

##  _But it was said that Rovagug could not forever be contained. For one day, its spawn, its children would emerge in the world to sow destruction, and in the blood of the world Rovagug, the Destroyer, would be free once again._

The town had already erupted into chaos by the time that Taylor emerged from her little hut, having quickly understood from the screaming outside to put on her armor. She burst out of the door, unsure what to expect, but her rapier nonetheless in hand. As she looked about, she noticed several details immediately present. First of all, Linda, the man of Sarenrae, was standing atop the church at the bell, ringing it as hard as he could. Second, townsfolk were fleeing to the south. And lastly, as she turned the corner to see what they were running from, she saw that whatever was going on, they were losing.

A row of guards in various states of preparedness lay decimated just within the borders of the town. Several of them had limbs torn off, and it became rapidly clear how this was possible - the undead they were engaged with possessed incredible strength, and frequently accepted blows to the body - spears to the gut, swords to the shoulder - in order to give them time to grab ahold of their victims, bludgeoning them to death with their head or their hands, or outright ripping arms off. Taylor had never seen anything like it, and the bloody horror of their strength distracted her from the even more tremendous scene taking place near the center of town, next to Sarenrae's church: Victoria, and a gigantic bear standing upon its hind legs surrounded a twelve-foot-tall creature that stood upright like a person, but whose body resembled that of an elk, with a gigantic head, the face of which was already stained with blood. Somehow having scaled the  _Lady's Luck_ , Courtney also stood watching this melee, but every few seconds she contributed an arrow, a strange array of many-fetching-colored arrows sticking out from the creature's hide.

Taylor remained frozen in fear while she watched these figures clash, but then someone else emerges like she did - bursting out, then pausing. Chloe Price stood in shock as she watched the scenes at the perimeter of buildings as well as the near the church. Just, unlike Taylor, she was a lot better at assessing them. Her eyes shot to Taylor as she stepped to the side of the door, pulling her gigantic blade from the sword from the ground in the meantime. "You, Taylor! You help with the ghouls, I'll get the . . . big thing."

Taylor nodded, and Chloe zipped away with incredible speed, coming into replace Victoria as they were swiped in the chest and knocked back with such force that their body skid after falling over. While she was still in no immediate danger, Taylor too the chance to chant over her blade, and a few seconds later, a grey flame burst forth over her weapon, and then moments later, barely-visible chains of force snaked out of the earth and wrapped themselves around Taylor's body, then became still and invisible.  
Taylor was greeted by a large explosion ahead of her as she reached the fray, and quickly noticed a panicked Warren Graham sifting through a massive bag filled with vials of many colors. When Taylor could see the ground of the explosion again, she noticed that it had seemingly avoided all contact with the few guards left standing, but had left three of the ghouls aflame. The creatures shrieked in pain, but it did not seem to stop them from attacking, and this only proved more horrifying to the women trying to keep them off.

One of the guards, though, appeared to be about to fall to the same trick as those before them - by impaling one of the creatures, who now had the guard in grasp. "On your right!" Taylor called, and the guard seemed to understand, as they dropped their weapon and ducked down to the left. Lines of electricity bounced up and down Taylor's rapier for just a second before she slipped the point between the ghoul's emaciated ribs. It screamed for a second as the magical fire burned inside it - but then, the charge of the blade jumped. Taylor had to shield her eyes from the burst that came forth, as the viscous, dark blood and bits of bone that remained inside the ghoul came to coat her and the guard she had just saved.  
"Thank you," the guard let out gruffly, and Taylor realized who it was, though he was hardly familiar - the guard captain and man of Abadar, David Madsen. He removed his spear from the remainder of the ghoul, and quickly stepped to Taylor's side a two more of the flaming ghouls lunged forward where one fell.

Taylor realized one big difference between these ghouls and others of their reanimated ilk - most were equipped with weapons and armor and little else, but these creatures came unarmed, unarmored, in fine (if decayed and now burning) clothing, their most intimidating feature their decayed flesh and glowing red eyes - a light where flesh should be.  
As one of the creatures lunged for her, it found its attack mysteriously deflected, and its body almost seemed to crawl up her shield for a moment. Finding a point of counterattack, Taylor crouched down as the electricity burst forth on her weapon again, then lunged up, plunging her rapier into the base of the ghoul's head, magical fire going ignored this time. The mess was significantly less this time as its head burst from the electrical overload, and Taylor was able to simply push its body down and out of the way with a quick kick to the abdomen.

Without magic, David was having a much worse time, but made sure to only make quick jabs at the creature as it rushed him, opening up wounds that wouldn't seem to bleed but still keeping it at bay. Luckily, another one of Warren's vials seemed to land just perfectly on the creature's chest, and the resulting blast seemed to form a line, and blasted the creature back while leaving Madsen unharmed. Madsen was quick to follow up, and rushed forward to plant his spear in the creature's eye socket. Between its burning and braining, the creature lay still.

That only left . . . about 13 ghouls against Warren, Taylor, and David Madsen. While a few of the creatures had fallen to their knees and begun to devour the eviscerated, dismembered, or otherwise incapacitated victims, the remainder now turned their sights towards the duo with the bodies of three ghouls in front of them, standing in front of the fire-tossing alchemist.  
"David, I need a favor," Taylor said, and took a step back to stand beside him once again. He had no time to agree or consent - she merely laid a hand on his ghoul-coated, hastily-donned armor, and a second later, he expanded. He rose to greater than ten feet tall, his gear changing to max, his spear suddenly much longer than the body of the ghouls he was fighting. He stood nearly as tall as the elk-headed beast that roared as it fought.

They only had a second to breathe before the ghouls were upon them. But in that moment, they heard: "NO! Leave her! Max is okay, just leave the body!" followed by a horrible clanging noise as Chloe's heavy sword made contact with something dense, but Taylor could not see what was happening over here - she could only see the antlers of the massive creature and hear its roaring as it fought.  
Just as the ghouls were upon them, though, Taylor noticed a speck of light appear on a hill to the north. It appeared like candlelight, tiny and distant, but a moment later it zoomed forth and grew brighter and brighter, until a ball of this light fell upon the mass of decaying, shambling creatures. It exploded into a ring of fire, perfectly contained within a sphere  that consumed the creatures, causing Taylor and David to shield their eyes from its sudden heat and light. It disappeared in an instant, but when it did, it left many of the ghouls as nothing but charred remains that collapsed to the ground seconds afterwards.

Taylor was dazed, and stumbled back, unable to see where the flame had originated from. Still, the explosion seemed to give the few remaining ghouls pause - those that had waited back to consume the flesh of the fallen guards. They all looked up and began to scan the area, but it was not them, but Courtney that shouted out the answer: "IT'S RACHEL! RACHEL'S HERE! AND SHE'S GOT FRIENDS!"  
Heartening though this was, Taylor and David were still vulnerable, and the remaining ghouls stood and began to sprint at the still-nearly-blinded duo. Taylor topped over as someone's hand fell at her side and shoved her over, and she did not realize who it was until the spoke.  
"Fuck it; I've got this." It was Warren. Even indistinctly, she recognized that he drew a flask from his belt, filled with some violet fluid, and drank it down with practiced speed. He threw his bag to the ground, and braced himself empty-handed for the oncoming ghouls.

And it was only in the moment that they reached him that his transformation occurred, and it occurred within the blink of an eye. His flesh became strained and bulging, and his spine almost sounded like it snapped as he seemed to grow a foot taller. A horrifying mass of muscle, asymmetrically placed throughout his body, forced his skin to ripple, and his flesh become pale blue-white, dark lines over his neck and arms that duplicated the look of veins, but were far too large to truly be such. His fingers seemed to lengthen and stiffen, becoming bone-white, becoming unnatural mimics of dragon claws.  
The first ghoul didn't even reach him - his claws simply swiped through its abdomen, and its body fell in pieces at his feet. The next two were much luckier, and their hands wrapped around his forearms as they reached down with unnatural jaws to tear his arms open, but his skin did not seem to give. Finding himself so restrained, he only leaned down, and found his jaw distorted like his hands - pulled open wide, teeth exchanged for horrific, massive imitators, three times their regular size. His teeth found their way to the top of the spine of one of the ghouls, and with a tear its head lolled to its side, useless, and he tossed the creature away with his now-freed hand. That hand snaked back, wrapping around the skull of the final ghoul, which promptly found its brain impaled through with the many claws of Warren's hand. The last ghoul had the good sense to stop as it faced this strange abomination that Warren now was, mouth stained with blood just as his hands were with brain matter and guts.

But that didn't matter. Because a bolt of lightning appeared from that hillside again, stopping just as it passed through the final ghoul, which simply fell over in response, its flesh beginning to smoke.

Taylor only stared for a moment as Warren turned, and Taylor beheld his deformed body. She recognized now that this second mouth did not quite seem to fit his first, and his jaw appeared almost broken from itself, with one side of his mouth still composed of his original teeth, a break appearing where the monstrous fangs began. The muscles of his arms were frightening and bulbous, and both of his forearms dripped from the fresh wounds granted by the gnawing of the ghouls. He also seemed completely incapable of closing his mouth, which only made the blood coating in his teeth creepier.  
"I . . . what . . . what are you?" Taylor asked, taking a step back from Warren, flame still burning with the heatless grey flame.

Warren's words were distorted, and he seemed to struggle to make them at all, "chemy. Ich. Complachted. Normal soon."

Taylor just nodded, disturbed at what this man had become in such a short instant, at the gruesomeness he had created with his bare hands. But she didn't have all that much time to think about it, because Rachel and her two companions were now reaching the edge of town, stepping over the bodies of ghouls and guards alike. The first companion stood quite small, barely standing at five feet tall and with inappropriately long and styled hair (for the circumstances) but held a large bastard sword that gleamed like moonlight in her right hand. On Rachel's other side stood a very different figure, about as tall as Chloe, well over six feet tall. This massive one with pale skin and even paler hair held a greataxe in her hand as if it weigh nothing more than a hatchet, despite the fact that it had an oversized head.

"Hey you three. I heard you might be in trouble, so I brought some friends." Her eyes stared through the buildings that separated her from the wendigo, though she clearly spoke to the three who stood in the battlefield she was now crossing.  
Seemingly unfazed by Warren's horrific appearance, the pale one patted him on the shoulder as she passed. "Hey there big guy; I'm Stacy. Nice job on the ghouls," she said, but otherwise continued onward, making her weight towards the fight still going on with the massive creature.  
"Mari," the other one introduced much more plainly, but stopped near Taylor before continuing on with her partner. She indicated towards the antlers, then made eye contact with Taylor. "What have we got?" she asked.

Taylor didn't even have time to answer, although she tried to blather something coherent out while still expressing how very much she didn't know. But, instead, she heard a loud roar emerge from the creature, and steam to rise from it. In immediate response, she saw Courtney pump a hand into the air, and shout, "Yes!", apparently very satisfied with some result. She'd finally found the correct arrow type to bypass this thing's defenses.  
Taylor did not understand the blur of motion that occured, but an instant later, she no longer saw antlers beyond the buildings, but instead saw the massive, cloven-footed beast standing atop the _Lady Luck_  as if it were weightless, directly behind Courtney. Even if it was behind her, though, its body was too large for her peripheral vision to miss.  
"How-" was all she got out, before its massive jaws fell down around her, and a dull snapping sound emanated from the grisly scene. Her decapitated body collapsed, and fell from the roof of the  _Lady Luck_.

"COURTNEY!" Taylor shrieked.  
She was soon joined by another scream, "NO, COURTNEY, NO! NO!" That was Victoria's voice.

Tossing its massive head back, the creature swallowed visibly, and nobody moved an inch while they examined this horrific moment. But then, the creature let out another howl.  
And this one was unlike the others. It seemed to reverberate within Taylor's very body, and she somehow felt the beating of her heart, the blood coursing through her arteries and veins, and it felt like it all burned within her. And she felt . . . a need.  
Just for a second, and then it died away.

At least for her. A second later, Taylor could hear strange screams for the townspeople who had fled, spread out as they were on the other side of town or on the hills just outside of town. It was like a collective howl, all together, and after a second, Warren too raised his head to the sky and gave out a strange, distorted cry.

Mari was quick - incredibly so. She ran a hand along the length of her sword, fingers just centimeters from the metal, and the glow seemed to fade from the sword as she did, and a light seemed to concentrate in her hand. Before Warren had even stopped his howling, her hand shot out, and the light disappeared. Immediately afterwards, ice began to form around Warren's body, and within perhaps six seconds, his entire body was immobilized in a thick layer of ice that seemed almost anchored to the ground.

"Gods dammit," Stacy swore, dropping her greataxe into both of her hands instead of one-handing it. "It's a wendigo!"

A moment later, Rachel spoke an incantation in a language Taylor could not understand, and suddenly, a well of light formed around her feet. Immediately following, a great chain of force that glowed with the same white light shot forth from the ground, seeming to pass through Rachel's body unabated, flying straight forward the wendigo at a tremendous speed. The chain curved as it reached the beast, snaking around its body and then suddenly constricting, and for a moment, it struggled against it, howling all the while.  
Stacy and Mari were already rushing forward, but they were not the first to reach the building. Instead, Taylor saw only a brief blur as something ran past the church, then suddenly leapt the entire height of the  _Lady Luck_ , as if it were unbound by the principles of gravity. It wasn't until the blur stopped that Taylor could recognize it as a person, albeit a person completely cloaked in black and red, their face masked under a hood that did not seem to fall as well as . . . an actual mask. The person held themself up several feet up on the wendigo, and Taylor realized they were anchored by the hilt of a sword they had buried into the creature's chest all in the same motion of jumping atop the tavern.

The wendigo swiped quickly at the creature on its chest, but whoever the person was, they were too fast, and next thing Taylor saw, they had swung themself up onto the beast’s shoulders, and their blade came with them. It looked . . . like fire contained within a glass. The wendigo struck itself hollowly in the chest, and at the same time, the person perched on its shoulders snaked its blade around the wendigo’s neck, in preparation to cut its throat.

As the blade was pulled, though, the wendigo . . . changed. Its body became pale and translucent, and when the person finally slashed through the wendigo’s neck, although the creature howled, its head did not fall off as appropriate for something that had just been decapitated. The figure on its shoulders did not seem to account for this possibility, and quickly found itself in the wendigos grasp. The wendigo reformed to its corporeal state, and hurtled the person away towards a charging Victoria, who only had time to brace herself and avoid stabbing the fallen figure before she was hit with tremendous force, and fell back to the ground, one arm around the other figure as they rolled. However, the cloaked one recovered much better, and promptly rolled out of Victoria’s grasp.  
“You okay?” came a raspy, but higher-pitched voice from behind the mask.  
“Yeah,” Victoria responded as they tried to get to their feet.

Meanwhile, Mari and Stacy were not the only ones to arrive on the scene - many of the townsfolk seemed to have wandered close to the fight again, except with the horrible addition that their eyes glowed red like the ghouls before.  
“Shit,” Mari let out, identifying the change from familiarity.

“I’ve got it,” Stacy announced, and lifted her axe rather ceremoniously overheard. “World shaking!” she cried, and dug her axe straight through into the earth, from which immediately erupted a wall of stone to block the path of some three townspeople that were making their way towards the fight, using the buildings as additional walls. Other walls also sprang up, creating a sort of arena between the church and the tavern, the only entrances of which were near Chloe by the church and near the battlefield with the ghouls.  
“That’ll buy us some time,” Stacy confirmed, turning her sights towards the wendigo, who now seemed to have found a method to handle the chains wrapped around its body. One of its hands remained in that strange translucent state, and when that hand grasped the chain of force, the chain began to crumble, and when it tugged, the whole thing deteriorated. Rachel staggered back, and would have fallen down if Taylor had not quickly stepped to catch her.

Taylor could see she was outclassed by this thing, so as she held Rachel and helped her stand upright again, she asked, “What is this thing? A wendigo?”  
Rachel brought her hand up to her face, and swiped away some blood leaking from her nose. “A spirit. A corrupted man who hunted his own kind - usually a ruler of some kind. They can create more of their kind by forcing others to cannibalize their own.”

Horrified, Taylor realized now why those walls of stone had been created to keep out the village folk - it wasn’t to keep them from getting harmed by the wendigo, it was to avoid having them eat those who fought it. And Warren had been one of them - that’s why Mari had frozen him. Okay. Shit. “How do you . . . stop them, then?”  
Rachel’s lips quirked into a strange smile. “Kill the wendigo or kill them.”

The wendigo had now jumped back down to the ground, and the various warriors inched their way around it, trying to find a method of approach. Chloe, Victoria, Mari, Stacy, and the hooded figure. That bear from earlier was nowhere to be seen.

Mari pointed her sword at Chloe and Victoria. “You two! Charge, and I’ll try and slow it down.”  
She made a quick swipe through the air following  that, and a moment later, stalagmites of ice appeared from the earth and stabbed through the creature’s ankles, immobilizing it for a moment.  
Chloe and Victoria appraised each other for a second, then rushed forward. The wendigo’s claws still had much better reach than they did, and as it swung for them, Chloe had to stop and brace herself with her sword, managing only to block its swing from striking Victoria as they made the last few steps towards the Wendigo, making a final lunge before burrowing her rapier into the thing’s stomach. A second later, though, Victoria found herself in the creature’s grasp, shoulders being crushed inward, forcing her to drop her weapon. 

“Thanks for the opening!” Stacy praised as she made her way past the two occupied hands, axe in hand. She began to make a swing upward, somewhat awkwardly and far from the wendigo, but as she did so, the earth erupted, and a diagonal pillar of stone emerged, striking the wendigo in the back. As it was knocked forward, it fell face-first onto her axe. Blood gushed from its head wound, and the force of its falling seemed to rebound, knocking it back against the strange tendril of stone, its hand coming up to stop the bleeding that blinded it.  
The blur of motion appeared again as the cloaked figure lined up, and quickly began to run along the length of the stone structure Stacy had formed. They jumped once they reached the end, and as they landed on the wendigo’s head bracing their legs and somehow standing on its antlers, they crouched down and shoved their blade into its skull so far down, it emerged from the base of its neck.

The wendigo fell, and the cloaked figure jumped back onto the stone structure to avoid the ensuing crash. Chloe ducked out of the way of the falling beast, then dashed over to its other hand, prying its huge fingers off of Victoria. She had to grab the paladin herself and drag her out, creating cries of pain from the tall blonde, whose upper arms looked severely damaged.

Taylor strung Rachel over her shoulder, and progressed towards the fallen monster now that the battle seemed concluded. She noticed, when she arrived, somebody that she hadn’t seen involved in the battle, and it turned her stomach - Max Caulfield lay eviscerated at the scene of the original battle. Between that and Courtney’s bleeding torso, Taylor was not sure how to process the devastation of the familiar.  
Almost as if she sensed Taylor’s recognition, Rachel spoke up, “Don’t worry about Max, little mage. She’ll be back.”  
Taylor looked at the oracle curiously, though she did not return the look at all - instead, she gazed over above Max’s body. “She’s immortal, you see. The wendigo would have to do much worse to keep her down.”

Chloe’s eyes wouldn’t stop darting between the three unfamiliar warriors and Rachel, but finally she asked, “Do any of you have access to healing magic? Victoria’s badly injured.”

Mari trotted up towards the body of the wendigo next to Stacy, but she hadn’t seemed to notice Chloe until she asked this question. “Huh? Oh, no, just elemental stuff for me. Nice arm, by the way,” she said, gesturing with her open hand towards Chloe’s mechanical left arm. “Adamantine and mithral, right? Solid style - pun intended.”  
  
Rachel stepped out of Taylor’s arms, and slowly stumbled her way towards Victoria via their groans of pain, refusing any more assistance walking from Taylor. “I got it, Price. Don’t worry.”  
She crouched down next to Victoria when she reached her, and felt around a little until she located some of her skin - in this case, her forehead. “Be healed,” she said simply, and with a rather sickening set of crunches and snaps, Victoria’s arms repaired themselves, and several lacerations around her body closed themselves up.

Meanwhile, Chloe replied to Mari, “Huh? Oh, yeah. I didn’t exactly get it on purpose, but yeah, as far as metal arms go, it’s pretty handy.”  
  
Now Stacy joined in, seeming just as excited as Mari, but about something rather different. “Wow, okay, that is an awesome sword you’ve got, too. Maybe not as cool as Uranus, but, you know, not bad.”

Chloe just scratched the back of her head, having abandoned the six-foot-long, 120+ pound monstrosity in her effort to free Victoria from the wendigo’s grasp, but walked over to retrieve it while Taylor helped Victoria up from the ground.  
Meanwhile, the cloaked figure hopped down from the stone structure and walked around the wendigo to join the sort of semicircle forming around the dead thing. Taylor noticed immediately that their blade - which even from up close still looked like a sword made of glass with a fire inside - was completely clean, similar in style to Chloe’s, although that process took time.

Victoria and Taylor walked together over to where they had seen the body of their friend fall, and found her torso in a pool of blood. Victoria turned towards Rachel and called out, “You, the one who healed me. Can you perform resurrections?”

Rachel shook her head, her eyes facing still away, though in their general direction. “The gods have never revealed that sort of power to me.”

Chloe sighed, noticing that body, along with those of the city guard, and remembering the devastation of the past twenty minutes or so. “If Max had made it out, we might have been able to reincarnate some of the fallen. This is . . .” Chloe seemed to be at a loss for words.

Mari piped up, “Well, hey, I may not be able to do it, but I’m pretty sure we could get in contact with a Man of Iomadae or something, somebody who could perform a ritual for that. Rituals like that are incredibly expensive and difficult, though, do you think you’ll be able to handle it?” Mari finally sheathed her sword, but Taylor noticed that you could still see its glow even when it was sheathed.

Chloe nodded, “Yeah, we’ve got a local contract devil for stuff like that, we just need someone who can actually perform it. Who are you, by the way?” Chloe finally asked, looking at the trio of unfamiliar faces . . . well, two unfamiliar faces and a mask.

Mari pointed at herself with her thumb, “I’m Mari, and this is Stacy. We’re . . . well, we’re monster hunters. Rachel here has given us some tips in the past about cool, valuable creatures, and she said to come to Arcadia for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”  
Chloe gestured towards the masked figure, “And who’re they?”  
Mari just seemed to remember that there was an additional person present. “Oh? That. Her. That’s Brooke. She shows up to hunt the same stuff we do an inordinate amount of the time, but other than that, I can’t give you too much detail - she doesn’t tend to give us more information than ‘watch out!’ or ‘finish it now’ or stuff like that. Then she tends to vanish. Actually, why  _are_  you sticking around this time, Brooke?”

The hooded figure looked down at the wendigo for a moment, then back up at the pair of monster hunters. “This wasn’t what I was here for. It’s not here yet.”

Stacy gave a good-natured grin. “Oh, we’re here for the same thing, then?”

Victoria and Taylor finally made their way back to this crowd, though Taylor was beginning to eye the block of ice Warren was stuck in, because he had begun to shift back into his regular self and was squirming to get free.  
Victoria asked, “Wait, so, what are you all here for? I’m confused.”

Mari, again, answered, “We heard from Rachel that there was going to be some big bad with all sorts of loot around here sometime soon, so we’re hoping to be ready for it when it comes. Don’t know what it is yet, just that it’s big. And bad.”

Taylor stared down at the wendigo in horror. “Worse than this?”

Stacy nodded, her lips pursed to the side like this was a horrible concern but with a bit of an excited look. “A lot worse, yeah.”

Taylor was not sure how much more of this she could take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adamantine - The hardest known metal in the Pathfinder universe  
> Mithral - A magically light, incredibly hard metal from many fantasy universes. Can be mixed with Adamantine to create a powerful, flexible alloy, often enchanted to create something similar to Automail from the Fullmetal Alchemist universe


End file.
